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THE 

GIRL WHO LOVED 
THE LAND 


BY 

MAI RIGHTOR MASON 



THE CENTRAL BOOK CO. 
Nashville, Tenn. 



COPYKIGHT, 1917 
BV 

MAI RIGHTOR MASON 



MAR 21 lbl7 

©CI.A457529 


ih^ J • 


AUTHOR’S NOTE. 


Poised there like an eagle at Teneriffe, 

I gazed over a scene so fair : 

Rivers glinted in the sunlight, 

Dark hills in the background bare; 

Vast lay the valley for commerce; 

Smoke from myriad smokestacks boiled; 

There trailed the mighty railways, 

Stamping the power of toil. 

This third verse of a poem in a Western newspaper 
aroused a demonstration. I knew a story I could tell these 
empire builders on that Western plain bordering on the 
Mississippi, of a man and his bride in the days when the 
earth was young and day bound with enthusiasm. Joel 
Craig and his bride, Mary Putnam, left the home mooring 
at Marietta, Ohio, in a flatboat and floated out into the 
river and on down into the Mississippi and on to the land 
of the French. 

After the Louisiana Purchase, Nicholas Rochester came 
as a surveyor into the fertile river basin and laid out the 
county and built his home, taking as his wife the daughter 
of Joel Craig. Around the fireside the family heard the 
story of the pioneer. “The Girl Who Loved the Land,” 
who is the heroine of this story, felt the stirring of this 
great future with ardent youth. 

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CONTENTS. 


Chaptek. Page. 

I. The Young Surveyor 7 

11 . The Land of Dixie 16 

III. Education 22 

IV. An Ocean Voyage 27 

V. England 55 

VI. Scotland 72 

VII. The Continent 98 

VIII. Cologne 104 

IX. Heidelberg, Geneva, and the Alps 107 

X. Florence 112 

XL Venice 123 

XII. Tragedy 140 

XIII. Life in Dixie 154 

XIV. The Call of Dixie 172 

XV. The Overflow 184 

XVI. A Proposal 190 

XVII. Yellow Fever 199 

XVIII. The Old Kentucky Home 207 

XIX. The Love of Life 215 

XX. The Kentucky Home 225 

XXI. The Cumberland Mountains 230 

XXII. A Home in the Cumberlands 238 

XXHI. A City Charter 242 

XXIV. The June Sale 246 

XXV. Opening the Cumberland Tunnel 260 

XXVI. The Newspaper Convention 268 

XXVII. The Magic City Bubble 279 

XXVIII. Turn of the Tide to the West 289 

XXIX. A Woman Fire Insurance Agent 296 

XXX. The Bachelor 305 

XXXI. Friends 323 

XXXH. The Syndicate 336 

XXXIII. The Banquet 342 


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THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND. 


I. 

THE YOUNG SURVEYOR. 

“Sinews of war will heave into this furnace fire logs of 
action to forge a blaze in the South of commercial power. 
The Louisiana Purchase threw into our hands the richest 
alluvial soil on earth, not excepting the basin of the Nile. 
Here we will locate a city and lay out a site which will be 
one of the shipping points for the products of this magnifi- 
cent State.*' 

“It is an ideal location for a city here — the bottom land 
for business purposes and back on the highlands for domes- 
ticity. Streets through the low range of hills will add en- 
viable space for residential purposes.” 

“Have you decided upon a suitable name for it?” asked 
Abraham Rochester of his brother Nicholas, who had that 
day reached Arkansas, raised tent, and begun searching the 
location for purposes of city construction. 

“It will be named Helena. It will remind one of the is- 
land to which the victors sent the invincible Napoleon. It 
will spur many a man to action in days of trial to remember 
the superb hero who never was dismayed. Many hard days 
will be met before the wilderness will blossom like the rose. 
Do you like the name, brother?” asked Nicholas Rochester. 

“Suggestive, euphonious! If you name the county Phil- 
lips, for Louis Philippe, it will retain the historical connec- 
tion. He was the last of the Bourbon kings.” 

A fire was kindled by the side of the “Father of Waters,” 
and preparations to open the territory were made by the sev- 

7 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


eral surveyors whom the government had sent from Wash- 
ington to survey Arkansas, part of the newly-acquired pos- 
session which America had purchased from France. 

For a couple of days Abraham Rochester remained with 
his brother in the undertaking of the new enterprise of 
which he was envoy for the government, and then the two 
visited the magnificent plantation of Joel Craig, ten miles 
below, at a shipping point later called Old Town, for a brief 
space, the elder brother returning to Natchez, where he was 
a cotton grower. He also ran a line of ships between New 
Orleans and Liverpool. The cotton market at that time de- 
manded a foreign market because of the tremendous unex- 
ported bales and the drag on the unconsumed market. 

But Nicholas demanded supplies, and the plantation of- 
fered such commodities as were necessary for existence; 
and, too, the elder brother had formed, in the Natchez cotton 
market, the acquaintance of the owner of one of the greatly- 
reputed plantations of this State. Nicholas Rochester found 
an affable gentleman, one easily met, and arranged for his 
supplies to be delivered weekly by the team of this landlord 
of princely estates. He was cordially invited to meet at their 
home the family of Joel Craig, if time hung heavily on his 
hands ; for the country was undeveloped, and his acquaint- 
ance with his brother assured him of a gentleman. Further, 
it meant an acquisition and an assurance of the long-delayed 
surveys which would open the territory to the settlers. 

“It is an unlooked-for pleasure,” Nicholas Rochester re- 
plied. *T had no thought of knowing any one until I had 
laid out the precinct and built my log hut in the wilderness ; 
but your invitation is a kindness which I shall avail myself 
of when a rainy season sets in.” 

“Don’t hurry. The supplies cannot be sent before to- 
morrow. Stay overnight and have a good rest and a good 

8 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


meal, for it will not be easy to forage in the wilderness,” 
answered Joel Craig with insistence. 

“If you insist; I am but human, and a friend no one dare 
refuse. It is hospitality that a Southerner is bred and born 
with, and I am glad I have found it in the wilderness,” re- 
plied the younger man. 

It was not the first home young Rochester had entered in 
the South, but it was the first palace ; and to see its magnifi- 
cence in the remote State, far from civilization, seemed in- 
credible. He followed the master into the entrance hall, 
down its length to a drawing-room furnished with every 
detail of the furnishings of a Washington residence. The 
suite opening from this was also in the same elaborateness. 
The family met him at dinner, and an evening was spent in 
society met only in the East. 

He expressed surprise at the conditions, saying : “It sur- 
prises me greatly to find here in a wilderness such a preten- 
tious place. The environs were far beyond me; but the 
interior” — ^and he waved his hand to the suites — “it is past 
belief. How long have you lived here?” 

“It is my wife's bridal present from her father, who, as 
you know, was the son of Gen. Israel Putnam,” said Joel 
Craig. 

The family comprised a number of sons and daughters. 
Lauretta and Minerva, the two daughters, were just at the 
opening of young womanhood and had received their educa- 
tion in France. The evening was spent in listening to music, 
in which the two ladies were highly accomplished. Minerva, 
the younger, was especially attractive as a linguist, convers- 
ing in both French and Spanish with an accent quaint and 
interesting. Her intelligence astonished the scion of the 
North; her fluency and delineation were enjoyable, for 
she handled the subjects of the day in the most able way. 

9 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Young Rochester found himself unable to cope with her, 
but the stimulation was very helpful. 

When he made his adieus the next day, he eagerly ac- 
cepted the invitation of the family to return often. Fre- 
quently invitations to visit them accompanied the weekly 
supplies sent to the men, which were usually accepted and 
added greatly to the dreary days which these several men 
were called upon to bear on the long trips of early days. 

The work of surveying was tedious. Relays were sent in 
to cut the timber lands in making proper surveys ; and grad- 
ually huts were built, and men brought their families. The 
fertility of the river basin grew crops of surprising growth. 
The county was at last surveyed, and a grant of land had 
been made to Rochester which had borne immense crops. 
Several seasons he had been sending to New Orleans hun- 
dreds of bales of cotton and bought more slaves. More land 
was opened, and the young man began back on the hills a 
magnificent residence in the heart of this land. In the early 
spring Minerva Craig became its mistress. 

But Nicholas Rochester lingered only a day by the side of 
his wife. The government had large tracts awaiting his 
capable work, and his wife took charge of the plantation 
and managed it as a pioneer woman could easily do. Into 
this new home of Arkansas was born a son. His father 
named him Russell. Other children followed the issue of 
the union. They developed into stalwart men and fair wom- 
en, throwing into the State lives of undisputed material for 
its upbuilding. 

Russell was active as a commercial factor of the South 
and had made an enviable place for himself among the cot- 
ton shippers. The market had so developed that it had 
become an important point of the great alluvial agricultural 
lands. Each season saw the exports of double proportion 

lO 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


from this point run up the ladder, the growers multiplying 
their incoming as reports of the rich returns of this field 
went abroad. 

On the last trip north, at the close of the season, Russell 
had accompanied the captain of the upgoing steamer, having 
long since promised him that on his final trip north he would 
accompany him to obtain his bride in far Kentucky. 

The Baltic had unloaded her last shipment of cotton to 
Cincinnati and had so loaded her decks with merchandise 
intended for the South that the water swept over them. The 
gangplank was stretched across ; they were waiting now for 
the wedding party, which had left Newport and was being 
ferried across the Ohio. Having landed, the carriages 
climbed up the grade and crossed the plank onto the steamer, 
unloaded their inmates, and returned to the ferry. The par- 
ty ascended to the cabins, gave a merry good-by, and left the 
boat for the uptown district. 

The boat sounded her gong, pulled in her stage plank, 
drew in her rope, and steamed into the river. The pas- 
sengers came out on the deck, waving as long as their 
friends could be seen climbing the steep bank. The New- 
port Barracks Band began to play as the steamer reached the 
middle of the river, when the young wife said to her hus- 
band : ‘They are playing ‘Dixie.’ Is it not the very tune we 
would choose, so in harmony with our tour south V* Russell 
took off his hat and bowed over and over to their friends, 
and his wife waved her handkerchief as long as they dis- 
cerned the band or heard the strains following the river. 

When they entered the ladies’ cabin, the captain came for- 
ward and extended the hospitality of the boat : “You must 
be guests at my table during the down-river trip. Your 
husband and I are old shippers together. Every bale shipped 

II 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


north has gone on this boat. He promised me long ago, 
when he took his last trip north, he would go on this 
boat.” 

“Captain Higby, my husband has ever sung your praises. 
He said your boat compared with the ocean greyhounds in 
detail and furnishings. That no pains have been spared to 
afford every comfort is evident. It is lavishly appointed,” 
said the bride of Colonel Rochester. 

The Captain bowed low at this compliment and seated 
them at the table, glittering with silver and cut glass. A 
center piece of quivering gelatin, raised tier upon tier, shook 
with every movement of the boat, forming a dazzling orna- 
ment. The table was laden entirely with fruits and delica- 
cies, and the heavy damask added to the costly board of re- 
past. The steamer sped on its course. The “chug, chug” 
of the wheels shook the liner but lightly, though the chande- 
liers which depended over the table shook, reflecting a thou- 
sand prisms in the paneled mirrors lining the sides of the 
boat. The gong sounded its rat-a-tat of skillful manipula- 
tion resounding in the deep, and the negro waiters stood in 
military precision to attend to the wants of the passengers 
who now filled the tables. 

“Your passenger list seems very large this trip, Captain. 
It is very unusual, is it not ?” asked Colonel Rochester. 

“Double, I think. Salesmen going south, many accompa- 
nied by their wives, and a large foreign element. At the sec- 
ond table are Lord Richmond and a French viscount. We 
have a preponderance of foreign tourists that are sight- 
seeing and looking up investments. Uncle Johnny's sharks 
know ripe plums. Their eyes see through a millstone.” 

The negro musicians were playing the weird melodies of 
their race. The vivid intonation seemed to tell of the land 
of their birth. The mourn fulness striking chords of melody 

12 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


surpassingly sweet, Mrs. Rochester looked at the Captain to 
find an answer. 

“Mrs. Rochester, they are Nubian slaves impressed to this 
country, picked up at Cairo, I think ; but every negro on this 
boat is in paid service. I own no slaves,” the kind man said. 

Colonel Rochester commented upon the cuisine, saying: 
“So few know what the cuisine of a Southern steamer from 
Cincinnati to New Orleans is. I have eaten at the fashion- 
able Vienna cafes, sat at Madeira, and the waiters brought 
me such viands as science has not yet duplicated; down at 
the Rivoli my club dinner surpassed the concoctions of all 
art; but nowhere have I eaten such food as you supply. 
Where did you find your cook ?” 

The Captain answered, smiling so broadly that he laughed 
outright : “Seldom have the negro cooks of ante-bellum days 
in the South been equaled. I found mine spoiling the trade 
of the high-class hotels at Lake Pontchartrain and offered 
him a fabulous sum to take charge of affairs on the Baltic.” 

“Yes, and it is my wife’s palate you wish to spoil, tickling 
it with the choicest viands of your refrigerators,” Russell 
quickly said. 

The supper was finished, and the ladies’ saloon soon 
filled with guests. The grand piano at the end of the boat 
was thrown open, and several musicians played instrumental 
selections of rare beauty. After the musicians concluded 
their supper, they took their places and furnished music 
for the evening dance. Colonel Rochester, keeping time 
with his feet, arose, encircled his wife’s waist with his ami, 
and danced the length of the saloon. The floor soon filled 
with the tourists, and the evening wore apace. 

The Mississippi through liner in palatial furnishing gave 
the greatest opportunity for travel. The Boston, Philadel- 
phia, and Eastern manufacturers used the liners to meet 

13 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the exigencies of trade; for the opulent South was the im- 
porter of manufactured goods which the cotton raiser had 
shipped in raw bulk — a factor in international trade. So the 
Eastern scion was on his way south to resell the material to 
the trade, accompanied by his wife to obtain the salubrity 
of the Southern climate. Now he entered into suave social 
intercourse with the shipper and made a part of the trip. 

The Ohio River cities were soon passed. The beautiful 
clear water and scenery delighted all for picturesqueness. 
Many likened it to the Rhine and the Hudson. The flourish- 
ing cities gave them an impetus of interest in rapid develop- 
ment and commercial importance. Cairo was reached, and 
the steamer entered the Father of Waters. The Ohio 
threw her blue waters into the muddy parent stream, show- 
ing where the waters converged. The swifter currents took 
the boat forward with quickened pace, rapidly turning the 
wheels in a stream a mile wide between banks draped by 
forests on each side. 

Several days elapsed, when Memphis gleamed at dusk 
with glittering lights along its river front for miles. Its 
enormous blocks, smokestacks of factories, massive hotels, 
and far-twinkling lights revealed a populous and strategic 
commercial city on a bluff. The whistle of the Baltic then 
blew, and the boat slowly made its way to the side of the 
elevators. Boys were crying the evening papers ; drays and 
hacks were waiting for passengers bound for the stirring 
Southern metropolis. Many notable passengers were lost 
here. A valuable cargo was unloaded, and at midnight the 
deep tone of the boat’s bell denoted an onward departure. 

*'Home, dear wife !” said Colonel Rochester. “We must 
hasten to the deck if you wish to obtain a view of the city. 
We are turning the bend in sight of Helena. Dress quickly 
and come on deck.” 


14 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Away back in the highlands the early smoke of chim- 
neys curled over the roofs of happy homesteads. Church 
spires pointed heavenward. Great buildings told of pro- 
gressive existence. The black wharf lying at the foot of 
the levee was lined with drays, large vans, and busses await- 
ing the passengers of a through liner, and the inevitable 
paper boy was crying the early morning news. Yonder, 
drawn to one side through the fog, was the Rochester car- 
riage; and leaning against the side, dimly outlined, was the 
family coachman. As he caught sight of the features of his 
young master, he raised his red bandanna and waved it vigor- 
ously in the air. The boat was at the wharf now. The gang- 
plank was sent out, and a deck hand ran out to the end and 
dexterously threw the rope to a wharf hand, who fastened 
it to a strong post. Under the deep, sonorous commands 
of the mate, huge boxes, barrels, and trucks laden with 
heavy machinery were toilsomely pushed along, with the 
song of the negro deck hands accompanying the labor. Over 
the plank to one side went the baggage of the Rochesters, 
and the carriage drew close to the wharf. As the deck hand 
reached Job, he lifted one end of the trunks and threw them 
up on the rear seat, strapping them in place. The master 
and his bride followed. Holding out his hand to Job — an 
obeisance too low for a white man to learn the art of — young 
Rochester greeted the darky. Job offered a salaam to the 
bride, the latter also extending her hand in greeting. As 
the few met them in greeting at the early morning hour, Mrs. 
Rochester threw back her veil, revealing a face of noble 
birth and breeding. Wavy tresses of brown hair fell over a 
brow lofty in character. The oval cheek and eyes of dark 
blue, soul-lit, were rare in loveliness. The door of the car- 
riage closed on the pair, and they were conveyed to Roches- 
ter Place. 


15 


11 . 

THE LAND OF DIXIE. 

Back in the highlands Russell Rochester was building a 
dwelling of red brick. He and his wife had planned it 
together months previous to their marriage. Now it was 
almost ready for the young people, who had just returned 
from New Orleans, where the furnishings were purchased. 
It was a great square edifice with iron balustrades and steps 
which gave entrance to commodious verandas. The ter- 
raced hillside was made into forty- foot extensions set in 
umbrageous foliage and flowers of rare culture. The prime- 
val forest trees were undisturbed in natural g^rowth, giving 
a luxurious setting to the location, which was easily ap- 
proached by three broad lengths of stone steps ascending 
the terraces. The wide entrance hall ran the full length of 
the lower suite, which was similar to the upper suite. The 
massive stairway winding its way to the upper floor was a 
rich furnishing. The library on the right was of red cedar, 
with beamed ceiling. The fireplace, which reached to the 
ceiling, with heavily-carved brass andirons and accompany- 
ing utensils and backlogs piled in deep recess, gave a cheer, 
making it the favorite room of the lower suite. An Oriental 
rug of rich coloring covered the floor, and there were mas- 
sive bookcases holding books bound in leather; a bust of 
Byron shone in alabaster beauty; Alexander Hamilton in 
life-sized figure stood near a beveled door which opened 
onto the east veranda; paintings of historical character 
gleamed from heavy gold frames; the “Battle of Bunker 
Hiir’ and “Call of the Redcoats” were fine canvases; the 
“Hundred Steps,” which General Putnam rode down to es- 
cape the British, was a stirring picture. 

i6 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


A whatnot filled one corner, holding rare collections of 
the families — relics of historical armor, buckles, swords, 
exquisite vases, porcelain from Barcelona, Mexican rose 
jars, sandalwood boxes, a bracelet of Queen Seti's which 
a Mohammedan jeweler had given Colonel Rochester when 
he met him at the Sphinx and they climbed the Pyramids 
together, and a priceless Parian Taj Mahal which the 
Colonel had purchased in Athens (the dealer claimed it had 
belonged to an Indian nabob and had been left in pawn). 
The remainder of the furnishings were all of leather — 
couches, armchairs, and rockers. From this room the dining 
room opened in unvarnished walnut. The floors gleamed in 
tones of grained woods. The heavy dining-room table held 
places for a dozen people (hospitality was the natural home 
life of the Southern lords). The sideboard held cut glass 
and silver from Tiffany's. The service was from Barcelona. 
Abraham Rochester, on his last voyage abroad, purchased it 
for a wedding present to his favorite nephew. The dainti- 
ness and durability of it all added a superb elegance to the 
cuisine to which the mistress of Rochester was able to throw 
her doors open. 

The parlors denoted the delicate taste of woman's hand. 
The gray velvet rug was strewn with pale pink blown roses, 
which crushed beneath the tread. Chairs, divans, and rock- 
ers were in rich velvet and heavy silks; carved reception 
chairs inlaid with mother-of-pearl; the tables were of onyx; 
statues of the favorites, Goethe and Homer, stood on marble 
pedestals; paintings from the French Salon, draperies from 
Constantinople, and curtains from Brussels made a back- 
ground incomparable. A music room in the rear was in buff 
leather. Busts of Handel and Mozart and a rare painting of 
“Creation," which hung over the Steinway, finished the low- 
er suite. 


2 


17 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Into this home came two brown-eyed blossoms with ring- 
lets clustering about ivory brows, fiery, impetuous, domi- 
nating in development ; but their mother kept an even hand. 
The boy Russell, named for his father, rode again the steed 
of his great-grandfather, fired by the stories told him by his 
mother. The little daughter, Lucille, was quaint in her blos- 
soming infancy, often standing by her mother as she played 
the famous airs of the day, mimicking in her infant treble, 
or sat learning her first lesson in hemstitching. She screwed 
her small fingers into wee knots in an attempt to hold the 
needle or demurely walked each evening behind her father 
as he took his evening stroll on the terrace, with her hands 
behind her back, as he did. She lisped French with an ac- 
cent enviable as she chatted each morning while they sat at 
sewing, and sang scraps of the “Marseillaise,"" so noted in 
those days. 

The beautiful domesticity of the Southland had a rude 
awakening. The negro slave had precipitated the trouble. 
Rumors had gone North of much hardship to which the 
negro was subjected. The overseer was blamed. The sys- 
tem was all wholly bad, and the flag of truce had been hauled 
down and war declared. 

War"s red glare had thrown its lurid streaks athwart this 
domesticity. The South"s heart swooned in palatial homes. 
The boom of cannon resounded over the very heads of the 
Rochesters. A fort had been located on the heights over- 
looking the city, and the deep detonation of the cannon 
booming at the barges floating past, loaded with ammunition, 
sent terror to the fireside. The father had gone, had enlisted 
with the Rebel forces, when the first shot was heard across 
her borders. He had raised a regiment ; and with indomi- 
table bravery, with Job at his side, he went into the thickest 
of the fight. 


i8 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Dark and tempestuous was this havoc ; devastation, penu- 
ry, and want were in its steps. North and South begged at 
the door of the Rochesters. The woman was an open savior. 
In the horror of the times her pity extended to the slave. 
She fed from her bounty, tore her linen to shreds for band- 
ages, and gave bed and board. They knew her for a friend, 
a humanitarian. Five years passed away. The angry fire 
died down; the camp on the hill broke; the soldiers, gray 
and blue, were marching home with threadbare coats and 
worn trousers. A beard covered the soldier’s face ; his once 
soft hands were now black with the powder and smoke of 
his rifle ; his gaunt form was bent with exposure and weak- 
ness ; but his heart was on fire with a saved Union. “Dixie” 
was free. 

Up the long driveway climbed a gray figure, followed by 
Job, back to the pride of a man’s creation. The trees stood 
mute on the terraces — mute in the appeal of nature’s un- 
garbing. Not a vestige of shrub, vine, or plant was left to 
speak of years of labor to make the wilderness blossom like 
a rose. On he strode, on to the steps ascending to the house, 
on through the long hall, up the stairway to the bedchamber 
of his wife, where she lay ill, a babe a week old by her side. 

“At last, dear one,” he said, kneeling by her bed, “at last 
the war is over, and I’m at home !” 

She kissed the worn, tired face covered with beard, again 
and again murmuring her gratitude that he was at home and 
that the war was over. The baby opened its big brown eyes 
and gazed up at him as he threw the covers back; ringlets 
of auburn hair curling over its head and skin like the petals 
of a Marechal Niel rose stole the heart of the father as he 
reached his arms to the nurse to take it. Sitting by the 
window, he lifted the wee bundle in his arms, fondling it as 
only a father can. 


19 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“The baby’s name?” the mother murmured. 

“Dixie.” 

“For the Lost Cause?” 

“For the Southland.” 

“For the New South?” she asked. 

“Regenerated,” he answered. 

“Yes, but impoverished beyond repair. The soldiers came 
in the night and sawed the trees through to their hearts and 
left them standing. The cavalry turned their horses in on 
your German roses in full bloom. In a few days the great 
trees drooped. I watched them die daily, as if their hearts 
were human. There they stand, the motto of war, cruel, 
hopeless slaves— to rend the garb of nature as if it appeased 
its sword’s blade ! When the soldiers besought me to bind up 
their wounds, I asked them if I should not keep my band- 
ages to bind up the helpless trees,” she said in a low, deeply- 
agitated voice. 

“Are the slaves back in their cabins? Did you allot ra- 
tions?” he asked, changing her tenor of thought. 

“Most of them are. The younger men are not. They are 
gaunt, ragged, and ill. Rations were allotted the same as for 
our own table, and Dr. Abbey was sent for.” 

“Black Job fought like a demon. He kept by my side like 
a brother, with the tenderest care man ever had from man. 
I never threw away labor training him for a cotton inspec- 
tor. He is as able as any white man and quicker than the 
Northern soldier. He shot while they lifted a gun to the 
shoulder,” said Colonel Rochester. 

“If Reconstruction laws are passed and Congress gives the 
negroes land and stock, they can take care of themselves. 
We taught ours to work, to plant and care for crops, build 
houses, and use tools. The land Job owns is a fertile spot. 
I know he sold five hundred melons last year, even during 

20 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


war times, when he was at home after the battle of the 
Wilderness,” Mrs. Rochester said. 

“I gave him fifty acres on Rochester Place. He owns 
stock for a good start. He and Sarah can take care of them- 
selves. He told me,” he continued, ‘'no white-trash nigger 
need come whining round him, for he worked his way and 
behaved himself, and that was all there was to a nigger.” 
Colonel Rochester threw back his head and laughed. 

“Training alone is the solution. Lincoln’s mind will elu- 
cidate the problem. He will evolve feasible plans. We can 
pay remunerative wages, and gradually the negroes can pur- 
chase land, as Job has; but the stigma of slavery is forever 
removed from Dixie,” said the wife of Colonel Rochester, 
whose human heart suffered until the slaves were made free. 

The Colonel laid the babe down by the side of the mother 
and leaned over the bed again by her, looking into the clear 
depths of her eyes, searching for the love he had been sep- 
arated from so long. “Darling, to be home with you again, 
to hold you in my arms, to kiss you and know that we will 
nevermore be separated, is worth all the world to me.” He 
laid his head down by hers, and she folded her arms about 
him, murmuring her gratitude. 

21 


III. 

EDUCATION. 


The war cloud lifted, and peace folded her wings in the 
waning fires. The debt of war was thrown off and the em- 
pire confiscated, absolved. 

What struck this wild terror at the heart of the nation 
seemingly at peace? The assassin's bullet had killed the 
emancipator. He paid the price of her liberty and sank at 
Pompey's pillar of progress a martyr. Chaos was again 
seated in the halls of a progenitor, the factor of regenerat- 
ing systems, evolving triumphs unknown to civilization, but 
preserved on this soil where freedom's banner waves. The 
cords were cut and were gathered not again, for they lay 
dormant in the master's brain and, like the Atlantic cable in 
the early years of construction, were in the bottom of the 
sea, amid the swirl of the ocean's tempest of unrest, unre- 
sponsive and silent. 

The Johnson administration was grossness. Congress 
passed over his veto laws of reconstruction. Fifteen mil- 
lion dollars was expended to locate homes and firesides for 
the dark race. But land sharks grasped the results. Re- 
peated failure stared it in the face, and the plan was at last 
declared impracticable. The black roamed the South home- 
less, leaderless, hungry — a menace. 

Progenitorship was the demand. But the South again ex- 
tended a helping hand, and labor's price was now paid to 
field hands. A feeling of self-respect and self-help was 
generated among the negroes, and slowly the problem of the 
ages was being solved. 


22 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The war cloud lifted, trade was resumed, and commerce 
perched industriously on the marts of the South with re- 
newed zeal. Tenfold enterprises were energized ; rebuilding 
was continued with redoubled effort ; the alluvial soil, having 
rested, threw up luxurious harvests ; the sunshine fell again 
on a loving, hospitable people too kind to harm, too able to 
repine. School systems were inaugurated. White and black 
alike sought education. Taxes were paid alike on the acre 
of the white man and the acre of the black man, and doors 
swung open on the hinges of the plan. The foremost edu- 
cators were obtained. The roots of a forefather's progeny 
took root in the warm soil, throwing up tendrils, shooting 
into strength and robustness tense in fiber. The trained 
minds of this propelling developed an untaught republic 
wherever it rested or took dwelling place. So the years of 
recuperation passed onward. 

The Rochester family were among the peers of this realm 
which fed and fattened. The elder son graduated and en- 
tered Harvard. The daughter, three years his junior, stood 
competitive examinations and entered Vassar. The younger 
daughter, Dixie, had attained her junior year; but her par- 
ents released her from school life for a half year to visit 
the Old World, which seemingly her nature demanded in 
formative study. Her Cousin Athenia, of Natchez, would 
accompany her abroad. The invitation from the cousin, the 
Earl of Aberdeen, included them both. 

**A letter,” said Colonel Rochester, holding it up in his 
hand, ‘^informs me that the jetties will be sold. Uncle Craig 
has a munificent offer from Eads for our invention and de- 
mands my immediate presence. If you have Dixie ready, 
wife, she may go with me. It will be dreary for the little 
girl to take the trip alone.” 

''Her wardrobe was sent in last week. Her form is as 

23 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


mature, the dressmaker wrote, as Lucille's. Rowing her 
boat and horseback-riding have made her mature early." 

“Yes, and a fine mind in the fine body," he said. “I was 
over at the high school several days ago. Her essay was too 
deep for ordinary range. If she has her opportunity, she 
will write. Her professor says that her mind is masculine 
and her decisions strong. If she had been a boy" — and the 
Colonel sighed — “I would have trained her for the stock 
market." 

“The professor was anxious for her to take this trip. 
Travel, he said, when the mind is receptive, brings one into 
living touch with the real and artistic, idealizing its pupil. 
Her portrayal will be stronger, richer in substance, in de- 
veloping nature's talent. She delights in lofty altitudes. 
She was reciting “Prisoners of Chillon" on the balcony last 
night, and her voice had every inflection of trained elocu- 
tion," her mother said. 

“Children of the home should have the artistic craving 
satisfied. It is the well of desire; it has its demands and 
leads on to fruition," her father replied, knowing his child 
and offering all he could understand and supply. 

The trunks were sent to the wharf. The father and 
daughter took the night packet for Natchez, where Uncle 
Abraham and Athenia would join them on the down-river 
trip. They reached this destination in several days and were 
joined by the remainder of the party on the way to New 
Orleans. 

“Well, Russell, you have brought quite a girl this trip. 
Only but a few years since Dixie was in pinafores. And 
Lucille has entered Vassar, and the boy Harvard ! You are 
getting to be an old man, eh?" asked Abraham Rochester of 
his nephew. 

“Hardly. Not a gray hair in my head. Too busy to get 
24 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


old. Am getting the children ready to take my place, though, 
if I tire. The South is no place to rest; it is too alive with 
possibilities. Several more centuries will find it as polished 
as the comer stone of a palace; and it can take all the pol- 
ish, Athens or Rome,” he said, looking at the girls. “So 
you and Waldo Putnam Craig will sell the jetties to Eads? 
That is a bad move. I would sink them first. What is the 
matter with Waldo? Are the displacements too numerous? 
It has saved me more money on reloading cargoes than it 
pays in revenue, I guess. But the offer is bagatelle. The 
government will pay Eads a couple of millions when he gets 
things running smoothly. Put every dollar you can get in 
the thing. It will pay.” 

“It would draw a princely revenue if Uncle Craig could 
attend to it properly; but the displacements need constant 
watching until the currents are controlled, and he has decid- 
ed to sell.” 

“Eads saved his money on the ironclads he built during 
the war, but this steel bridge which he will build at St. Louis 
will pay more. It will be a fine thing, and it is much need- 
ed. Well, cotton prices are at the top notch; but in this 
fluctuation men do not know where they are, and it keeps 
one jumping to watch the thing. Last week, you know, it 
went sailing in the air. The next day the bottom dropped 
out. They unloaded on the market, and a plunger sent it 
again to the skies and left for New Mexico. He should 
have been lynched, as we did our overseers when they killed 
a negro.” 

“We have got another battle to fight with the trusts when 
the planter's price is doubled, thrown into a pool. It binds 
throngs too tight for anything but world fight. A man can- 
not run business on margins.” 

The packet reached New Orleans at daylight. The party 

25 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


left the boat at seven o’clock for the hotel, taking breakfast 
uptown. A carriage was engaged for the young ladies to 
view the city until the ship left, at 4 p.m. The two cronies 
walked rapidly up the street to Bond. The attractive city 
lay before them in early summer dress like a queen, at the 
entrance to the Gulf, with its heterogeneous shipping, as ka- 
leidoscopic as the port of Algiers, as cosmopolitan as Lon- 
don. The French Quarter was quaint in its attractiveness. 
The Spanish and South Sea elements afforded material of 
pleasurable interest to the world traveler. Boulevards two 
hundred feet wide made Dixie lean out of the window of 
the carriage in wonderment. The twenty- foot plat running 
through the center, set with palms and umbrageous flora, 
was incomparable in its ornamentation. Parks and drive- 
ways fell under the raptured gaze of Dixie’s artistic eye, 
filled to the brim with desire for her homeland to obtain the 
mellowness of the Florentines in ideal plans for city deco- 
ration. The architecture of public buildings, churches, and 
the noble thoroughfares lined with magnificent palaces of 
nabobs left naught to be desired. 

26 


IV. 

AN OCEAN VOYAGE. 

**Good-by now, my little Dixie. Enjoy your Old-World 
tour. It stole my heart. I am glad it is my opportunity to 
send you to see its wonders. Cram to the limit. We shall 
go over it again when you return.” 

Her father took her in his arms as if his child were too 
precious to relinquish even to the sights of the Old World, 
over which romance had woven her golden mesh. Her eyes 
streamed with tears. How she loved him who lavished all 
his heart's treasures on his family, ideal in its beauty of pro- 
tection ! 

“Hurry, Russ,” his uncle called. They broke away, run- 
ning the length of the ship. The girls hurried to the deck 
to watch his departure. Kisses they sent him; their hand- 
kerchiefs they waved until his gray figure, standing on the 
wharf, was lost from view. 

The next morning broke with a world of sunshine. The 
“chug, chug” of the ship's machinery made deep reverber- 
ations. The fresh wind, laden with a tonic surpassing in 
exhilaration, swept across their faces. The blue dome of 
heaven seemed like a vast camp. The inspiration of the sea 
fell like some invisible cloud of baptism. 

Athenia and Dixie walked the deck arm in arm. The 
long-dreamed-of voyage was a realization. Delightedly they 
swept the sea range of long-sought desire, grateful for the 
ultimate. 

“In early childhood I felt that I was the offspring of this 
mother of the billows, Athenia. Lord Byron revealed to me 
my birthright of the sea in his incomparable poem. I, too, 
revel in its billows and toss on its main.” 

27 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“You ship like a tar, Dixie,'’ Athenia said. “I never saw 
one ship so easily." 

“The nature is the secret. If you are sea-born, you will 
sail your craft like a sailor," spoke the enthused girl. 

“A new thought; to become inured to the rigors of the sea 
because of admiration is inexplainable, yet why not true?" 
replied Athenia. “The earth is full of characteristic natures. 
You and I are congenial nature lovers. The sea is our home, 
as well as the forests of the Southland. We revel in nature’s 
environments." 

The ocean spoke to them in an unknown language, filling 
their hearts with incense from its own censer. The blue 
expanse rolled on before them, the whitecaps rolling insist- 
ently, scudding onward like human things. Its restlessness 
yielded to nature a satisfying response for soul sustenance. 

The sun’s red globe lifted each morning out of the very 
deep and burned with liquid fire a pathway for the beams of 
its chambers. All day long they sailed in endless surges of 
water — no horizon, no dimension ; an endless, pathless con- 
tinuity of sea. 

June piled, scattered, redomed her pillars of cloud; even 
shimmered the vast expanse with an effulgence of raiment 
seen only when the sun sinks, burnishing its pathway with 
gold-tipped waves. 

“Dixie, you so enjoy the day," exclaimed Athenia; “wait 
until the moon reaches full quarter. See the crescent in 
yonder sky ! No sight on earth is so glorious when it is 
full." 

“The silent stars reflecting their distant light quiet my 
throbbing heart. If the imperiousness of this night queen 
demands my homage, I shall lay it down at her feet un- 
stinted, worshipful," replied the girl. 

28 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The dinner gong sounded its rat-a-tat. They heard it 
echo and reecho into the deep — a musical alarum. 

“I hear a musical sound reverberating in the deep caverns 
of the sea. Which way shall we go, Dixie?” asked the smil- 
ing Athenia. 

‘‘Do the sea shells echo human sound ? They tell me that 
the Nereids placed the waves’ sounds only in the shells, and 
that if mortals listen they can hear the waves beat upon the 
shore, the tempest roar, and the mighty powers of the seas’ 
battlements toss in her caverns.” 

“Let us follow the human element. It covets the morsels 
from its depths. The repast will elucidate the problem.” 
Athenia took Dixie’s arm as she finished her conclusion, and 
they found their way below to the repast of the hour. 

But who sleeps late at sea? The gong sounded for early 
breakfast. So up they rose (leaving their lazy shadows in 
bed) to see the daylight break through the mists, to see it 
drop, masklike, from the face of day — a mystery too great to 
permit one to loll upon a pillow. The deck was crowded 
with travelers shrouded in long cloaks and hugging close to 
the railing. The sea brine swept across their faces. They 
drank of it heroically the first morning; the second morning, 
like a salt tar ; the third, like a tang, wind, and weather ab- 
sorbent. 

That morning Key West rose in the distance through the 
fog, lightening a human canvas of South Sea shipping, which 
was the meeting place of Neptune, a Cuban importing ves- 
sel, with which line the ship was connected. 

“We will here meet Neptune, the vessel in which grand- 
father is interested. He desires us to make a call with him. 
The captain’s son, Carlos, is going to Madrid on our ship,” 
Athenia said as they watched the ingoing of the ship. 

“Is he about our age ?” asked Dixie. 

29 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“He is older. He is one of the Cuban insurgents, and he 
has published something striking in the press. He is slated 
for a position in the embassy at Washington. His father 
expects him to arouse great feeling on the subject. He acts 
and speaks like a tragedian,^* said Athenia as the ship 
moored. 

“That is Southern and natural, but this is sounding. Shall 
I make applause'' — clapping her hands — “an event, an epi- 
sode, a culmination of events? Shall we robe ourselves in 
fitting attire to meet this prince of the royal house?" asked 
the imperturbable Dixie. 

“He is in the line of destiny, my fair cousin. He is pre- 
arranged to fight the battles of the oppressed, and it be- 
hooves you to relinquish all preconceived claims and behave 
yourself with seeming indifference, if it breaks your heart," 
answered the friend of the insurgent. 

“Ah! my charming cousin, it is a ruse, a case of ‘hands 
off.' This is a concoction to quiet the blood of victors 
which makes us both akin. Shall I not be allowed to con- 
verse at all with this specie of Cuban tragedy, this liberat- 
or?" insisted Dixie tragically. 

They donned fitting attire and followed their respected 
escort for the call. The affability of the family placed the 
young people at once on a friendly footing. They were re- 
freshing and unstinted in hospitality. They stood on the 
deck and noted the transfer of the cargo, Dixie exclaiming 
at the ease in which the transfer was made by the negroes. 

“It seems strange, Mr. Migruil, with what ease the cargo 
is handled by the negroes. We do not have such extreme 
grace in our American negro." 

“Beg pardon, mademoiselle; they are Spaniards. Look 
more closely at the faces and bearing," said Carlos Migruil, 
the son of the Cuban captain. 

30 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Every one is a king. They have long, keen faces and are 
proud. It is strange that the Spanish nation is considered 
sluggish. Such facility with which they handle the cargo 
one seldom sees. It is little burden they make of it,'' said 
Dixie. 

“They are learning the Western power of labor. The 
utility of man’s strength is arousing dormant energy. But 
Spaniards are characteristically domineering and repulsive 
in intercourse. Socially, it is the decadence of the most 
polished nation on earth,” he told her. 

“I breathe slowly, I gasp for utterance, if bad manners 
show a decadence of culture. What shall our nation do? 
It is our oppressor. We fight the battle of the defenseless,” 
spoke Dixie. 

“It is the incipient stage in your land where such gross- 
ness occurs. Ego is in the superlative degree. When base 
metals mix with fine gold, the edges will gradually come 
through the eye of the needle,” Migruil felt it necessary to 
speak. 

“Democracy’s fine arts are dormant in republican fads, 
crippling fine stock with world license, formerly in the as- 
cendant. What shall we do for clean stock to meet the de- 
mand of the peerage at home and abroad, if we do not keep 
up the grade ?” asked Dixie with upturned, serious face. 

“They have inaugurated schools of culture now to finish 
the females of our best families, to accept defunct moral 
peerage. The Western girls must wear crowns and become 
countesses. It is their mission,” he said. 

“Our social conditions are aspersed because so many of 
our chief men live abroad, the stamping ground of our mas- 
ters of commerce. A relinquishment should make Congress 
pucker its eyebrows more than the eternal tariff. Further- 
more, Congress should lay a tariff on every dollar which they 

31 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


take abroad, which would make them stay at home long 
enough to make the price of the imperishable estate, and a 
little duke thrown in with the ancient castle,'^ said demo- 
cratic Dixie. 

*‘You lay claim to diplomacy, and it is your rightful in- 
heritance. We anticipate great denouement from such as- 
tuteness developed so early in life. Shall we meet on the 
floors of Congress and pass some regular up-to-date pre- 
servatory bills?” asked the Cuban insurgent slated for the 
Washington embassy. 

“That will be an extra study abroad to learn tactics. 
Since you have inspired my soul to such a degree, my coun- 
try may employ me,” she said. 

The ship lifted anchor, rounded the Cape, and left behind 
them the Gulf, the strongest body of water, commercially, in 
the Western world. The young people debated at supper 
that evening on its exports beside the Mediterranean Sea. 
Young Migruil asked Mr. Rochester his opinion. “What 
are the exports annually? Are we in line to vie with the 
ancient sea, Monsieur Rochester?” 

“Ask me in the twentieth century, my young friend. It 
is not debatable. Your eagerness to expand your wings 
gives the Gulf little opportunity to attain her commercial 
ascendancy. There is no laggard life in our pushing claims. 
Our industry-making will eclipse moss-grown history in a 
few years, when tremendous cities develop from the mon- 
ster markets which our resources afford, fashioning giant 
industries. The world will tour to see our colossal success. 
Egypt, Italy, and Greece will be left to the shade of the cen- 
tipede,” the elder said affirmatively. 

“Ah! a ringing blow to classical beggary; but it is true 
that they make much of ancient art, neglecting the inherent 
talent which is the rightful stimulative. It has been smoth- 

32 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


ered out with the dole of sight-seers. The whole of the il- 
lustrious nations are colossal ruins, subjects of world-wide 
jeer,’* young Migruil said. 

“Break your own chains ; we all will help. It will reveal 
more than all else the new nation’s power of purpose and 
will exalt personal industry,” Mr. Rochester said, conclud- 
ing his repast and retiring from the table. 

They came up the hatchway a few mornings after this 
conversation. Mr. Rochester was standing with two strange 
gentlemen looking northward with glasses in their hands, 
seemingly viewing something. The girls lifted their ship 
glasses, too, to view the outline of an embodied substance, 
tall, ghostlike. 

“An iceberg !” Dixie cried. 

“Come here,” Mr. Rochester called; “let me make you 
acquainted with my granddaughter and my niece, the Misses 
Rochester, Mr. Duroc and Mr. Marmaduke.” 

They both bowed with deep respect, and Mr. Marmaduke 
offered his hand to his two countrywomen, remarking to 
Dixie : “We have been enjoying you as a good voyager. 
This is your first trip across the ocean, your uncle tells us. 
You are a good shipper.” 

“I was bom to the surf,” Dixie answered. 

“Ah ! a case of predestination. You will claim the extent 
of her borders with such a soul as that,” Mr. Marmaduke 
replied, looking to his gentleman companion for confirma- 
tion. 

A sharp, shrill whistle startled the ship’s passengers, who 
immediately thronged the deck with white, scared faces. 
The ghostlike body was passing leagues away. The sudden 
lowering of the temperature chilled them; but the resplen- 
dent sun shone upon the crest of the iceberg, changing it to 
a crystal palace, a domed minaret — an awe-inspiring sight. 
3 33 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Ah, foghorn! ah, sea bells! That monster paid no atten- 
tion to the fallacies of man. It was a sea traveler, white, 
colossal, supreme. He who rides the waves, greyhound 
or armored vessel, heeds your path, for it is marked with 
ruin. Fathoms deep below the sea sank two-thirds of the 
bulk from the Arctic. 

They dipped “Old Glory'' in the sea. Had they not sighted 
a vessel? Had it not run its line long before Columbus dis- 
covered the Western Hemisphere? This navigator was 
cruising directly south. Ship after ship was sent to find the 
lost exploi*er; but the soft winds and wooing of the breeze 
in southern waters, Circe-like, perfumed with the incense 
from the isles of spice and magnolia bloom, blew its fra- 
grant breath about it, and the huge giant lost consciousness 
and never returned to tell of the cruise. 

The ship's photographer caught the strange ship just as 
the sun, bold armorer that he was, glinted down his spear. 
The picture was hung in the ladies' saloon and entitled “Trip 
of the Ancient Mariner." 

A rally of passengers and introductions followed after the 
merciful escape from a salty sea burial. Several selections 
were sung. A chorus of voices rendered “The Eye on 
High." The sweetest tenor caught Dixie's ears. She bent 
her head the more directly to catch the sound and found that 
it came from the same gentleman she had that morning been 
introduced to. Some imp of fate turned his eyes directly on 
her face. They grew gloomy with invisible sorrow. The 
cadences fell to a lower chord. Too unhappy to linger near, 
she cast her cloak about her and went the length of the ship. 
The music, meant to dispel the averted catastrophe, fell on 
her sensitive nature with redoubled force, and her soul shiv- 
ered in her body. The black cook, in big white cap and 

34 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


apron, his arms akimbo, stood directly in the way, listening 
to the music. 

“What am ther matter wif 'ittle Miss Dixie? Yer am all 
scared out. Let Sam show you feesh in his 'frigerators,” he 
continued, pointing his hand upward ; “he watches.^’ 

The refrigerators were filled with a display of coats of 
gleaming mail, trout, bass, perch, and great catfish glittering 
in shining array — the negro artist delighted as a Rembrandt. 
He opened the fruit storage — golden-lipped figs bursting 
with tufted crests, pineapples, dates, oranges, bunches of 
rare bananas, and on cool green moss lay luscious bunches 
of grapes; vegetables of rich coloring and of the greatest 
abundance and variety, which only the tropical West Indies 
could produce. 

“The warm tropics extract full due from nature, Sam, a 
wealth's store unsurpassed; nature is a prodigal spendthrift 
with the soil. You will be an importer some day, when you 
weary of the sea. You are a young man yet. Uncle says 
that you are the best judge of fruit in the South Sea trade," 
Dixie said to the family servant, who had been born and 
reared in her uncle's household. 

“Yessum ; Sam help hisself some. He keeps his money in 
New York. He 'gin in little while. He knows fruit and 
wegetables — gude knowledge of tropics few men beat." 

It was a great dinner served that day, a Thanksgiving 
dinner. Now the peril was past, and the spirits of the 
party had revived. A happier repast was never enjoyed. 
Some returned to the cabin for a game of cribbage. Many 
turned deckward. Athenia and Dixie and Carlos added 
their jollity to the party ere they reached the deck. Dixie 
was glad she had left her books beneath her rug, since liter- 
ature's escape seemed probable; for “two's company, three 
a roomful," Gibson paints. Dixie was quite absorbed in 

35 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


sea views as she strolled forward on the deck, but presently 
she turned and found her accustomed seat. 

“A voyage is companionship, not retirement,” a voice said 
at her elbow. She looked up and saw the inquiring gaze of 
Basil Marmaduke. 

“Have I been selected on the entertaining committee? 
My services are obtainable, if necessary, and there are new 
fields to gather from,” replied the young woman. 

“Thistle waste, you surmise. You have not wandered 
through the garden of Hesperides,” Marmaduke said. 

“How can I decide whether the soil is as productive as 
the ancient gardens were — if the golden apples should be 
stolen by Hercules ?” She glanced at him immaturely, as a 
girl might. “Hercules appears to have lavished skill pre- 
paratory to his toil.” 

“Well said, madam; and to so adroit a compliment I 
feel constrained to respond. He has strolled upon a species 
in the gardens which botany has not classified, so tropical 
that he fears, with much trepidation of daring, to analyze 
the wondrous specimen.” He looked at her with lighted 
eyes of keen gratification. 

“What’s a man unless in white flannels?” Dixie inwardly 
thought. A rich four-in-hand flaunted in the breeze, and 
the daintiest silken shirt she noticed further as he stood be- 
fore her in manhood’s years; his black eyes, black hair, and 
white teeth glittering even as the pearls on her string. Nev- 
er had her girlhood’s eyes beheld so attractive a personality 
as the stranger who came to her for a tourist’s entertain- 
ment. She answered him hastily : “There is a flower I left 
in my father’s conservatory, the night-blooming cereus. 
Would it suggest to you a specimen?” 

“Blooming in the daylight and sweetly, the night-blooming 

36 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


cereus means a soul born out of great sorrow and prickly 
because of the world sting/' he replied. 

“I dare not gainsay your mature knowledge. The famous 
plant greatly interested us. My father brought it from Old 
Mexico. It was so peculiar in development that we placed 
it among botanical curiosities. It has no counterpart in all 
flora. So I shall bask all day long in sunshine and close my 
petals until the sun shines again/' she replied. 

“And play your harp, talk books, travel, and dance the 
long evenings away until the ship makes her voyage." 

“It is good of you to take your time with a child's enter- 
tainment. We only tease," said Dixie. 

“Do not think me old. My thirty years are as a tale 
which is told. Years ago, when I was like you, the world 
was very dear. But I go back and forth ; no rest has my 
foot," he said sadly. 

“A Rebel never surrenders his flag. The bravest deed of 
the South was to bind up the wounds of her soldiers, that 
no scars might be seen. I wear the white cross. How can 
I serve you ?" she inquired. 

He looked at the girl, who knew nothing of progressive 
heart affairs, and moaned out his bitterness, saying : “I travel 
to wear out pain. The hour's amusement is mine." 

“Out of the tomb lilies sprang; out of sorrow, hope. 
Man's destiny is masterful, creative; his soul reaches the 
eternal. What part have you had in the work of the age? 
Is your name inscribed on the tombs of the Athenians? Is 
the Trajan statue, pointing its marble to the sky, in your 
name ? What in your own beloved land commemorates your 
ideal gift to its aggrandizement?" Her voice sank low as 
she questioned, looking full into the face of her companion. 

“Child, child, you have not dipped your soul in life's bitter- 
ness. Mine is twisted in its furnace,” he said pleadingly. 

37 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


‘*Not in its crucible of existence, for the sorrows of the 
world lie deep. Could a woman’s hand minister to the 
pain?” she asked comfortingly. 

“Some sorrows are too deep for a woman to reach. Time 
only wears out the sufferer. Would that I could take the 
remedy you propose! World diversity has been the only 
release,” he said mournfully. 

“Hope sprang from the head of Pallas. In yonder land 
the great hearts of our forefathers gave all life, all hope — 
planted commerce in the wilderness. You are its inheritor. 
There is freedom there to work out man’s highest ideal, 
unbiased by king or creed. Is there not some fair temple 
to rear, some adornment of its cities, some plan of amelio- 
ration in the rough places, where the less fortunate walk the 
valleys of life, to cast blossoms? If some sacrifice, the pain 
would be forgotten in the remembered duty.” 

“I shrink from the view of the world. I must hide my 
pain, lest the curious world prick the bleeding wound of a 
proud man,” he said. “Sing to me some strain of your 
Southland, that I may forget,” he asked. 

Dixie picked up her harp, which was lying with her books, 
ran her hand lightly over its strings, and sang. Her rich 
contralto voice swept out over the waters. He leaned his 
head back to listen. She sang on until the song was con- 
cluded. His lips were wreathed with a smile. He reached 
over and took her harp, ran his hand down its chords in a 
masterly way, and broke into a song of the Fatherland. She 
had heard the masters sing; had heard divine symphonies, 
grand oratorios; had heard “The Passion,” by Liszt, in 
marvelous power; but where was the inspiration bom — ^a 
German song of the Fatherland — when young and day- 
bound with happiness ? The song ran on like a brook falling 
over cascades ; then bold, heroic, stirring, some excelsior to 

38 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


reach, the melody broke into a crash of paeans, the singer^s 
voice ringing in challenge like some Barbarossa. 

Ah, the golden harp in a master's hand ! Could she ever 
strike its golden chords again? But the cadences fell, the 
melody ceased, and the harp dropped to his side. Wearily 
he arose from the chair, offered her his arm, and they 
walked the deck. She looked up into his face, asking : “Can 
I doubt now that the soul of a man soars, that it claims its 
ascent to the heights of endeavor? It would be better for 
you to go into the world and sing the anthem of the brave 
than hide a broken heart amid its ruin. The tastelessness of 
the Old World has no aspiration for an American." 

“Miss Rochester, you will bring life again to my fam- 
ished heart with your masterful pleading if you insist on 
its attainment. I have only loitered at the fountain of joy 
and the fountain of woe. The stronger surged my soul 
through tortuous ways. Your insistence that I turn back to 
the early joy of youth makes me yearn again for a return 
of life and its possibilities," he said with more interest. 

They again had reached the place where Dixie usually sat. 
Seeing her books stacked on a chair, Marmaduke stopped 
and overlooked them. 

“I am ready for self-immolation if Athenia wearies of 
my sea rhapsodies," she explained. 

“ ‘Childe Harold's Pilgrimage' is a fine sea-voyage com- 
panion, I surmise," he said. 

“If one fall into the poet's humor. Byron always seems 
to be sitting, companionlike, with me, or hand in hand we 
wander over highway and byway, he ever reciting to me his 
poet's verse. Nations he repeoples in living garments, pass- 
ing through hamlet, country, and mart; pretense he assails 
mercilessly; but ever are found the ornate meter, the ex- 
quisite raiment, charming his votaries afresh.” 

39 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“You are a worshiper at his shrine. Repeat to me his 
Trayer of Nature/ that fine appeal to a personal God/* he 
requested. 

After she finished the poem, he said : “Neither have I any 
creed save the human cry to a Father who knows his people 
and the soul^s need.** 

Off in the distance loomed a ship. It was bearing right 
down on them, evidently for an exchange of mail, which 
was soon determined by a launch leaving its side and breast- 
ing the sea*s billows, delivering on board their ship a budget 
of much-valued matter. They went forward to the post. 
Dixie received several letters from home, and Mr. Mar- 
maduke a large number of letters and newspapers. They 
returned to their seats on deck, and each perused the mail. 
Dixie concluded hers and glanced unintentionally at Mr. 
Marmaduke. In his hand he held several empty enve- 
lopes inscribed with a lady*s dainty chirography. Dixie*s 
nature, so responsive, grew timid. She became alarmed, 
feeling that she had let down bulwarks of a strong nature 
and that an invisible enemy had made an attack. What did 
she know of the world? Why had she had confidence in 
this man? To one unversed in obtuse character he bore the 
credentials of a gentleman. Manhood*s appearance satisfied 
her. Naturally she responded to the real man without fear. 
Now an inner consciousness was bom for protection to the 
child-woman. She gathered up her books, stacked them in 
her chair, placed her harp in its case, and strolled forward 
on the deck in the direction of Athenia, but a few yards 
away. 

“Miss Rochester,** Marmaduke called hastily. 

“Read your mail,** she returned ; “I am going to Athenia.** 

“We are arranging some charades,** Athenia said. “Car- 
los thinks we can have some effective acts to illustrate the 


40 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Cuban insurgents’ claim, interspersed with historical cha- 
rades. Will you be ‘Cleopatra’ to Marmaduke’s ‘Antony’ ?” 

“Egypt bore no blondes in Africa,” Dixie said emphati- 
cally. 

“What’s the question ?” Marmaduke said, strolling up. 

“What was the color of Cleopatra’s hair?” Dixie asked, 
turning to him, forgetting her intended reserve. 

“Black, radiant, and shining as the night.” 

“So I stated,” returned Dixie. “They are arranging some 
charades to enthuse passengers on the Cuban question, inter- 
spersing with the historic. Athenia must be ‘Cleopatra’ to 
Carlos’s ‘Antony.’ ” 

“And Marmaduke a Spanish serenader and sing with 
mademoiselle’s harp. I have not heard such a superb voice 
since I heard De Reszke in Madrid. What are you doing 
with it, monsieur? It is matchless,” said Migruil. 

“I will assist you to make Cuba free. What have you in 
copy?” Marmaduke asked, as if new life were struggling 
back with a motive for action. Carlos ran oil several poems, 
which Marmaduke took down and set to music. “If enter- 
tained, the world will be more interested than by speeches 
in a thousand years. If you catch them by guile, they are 
captives,” Marmaduke said. 

Dixie’s battle was for world freedom. The little Rebel 
could see no use in yokes of bondage, turning to mere slav- 
ery the life’s sustenance. She chose Jeanne d’Arc fighting 
for France. “It will suit my theme, Athenia, more than 
anything you offer. Woman’s work is righting the neglect 
of the day because of man’s lassitude,” she explained. 

Athenia and Carlos persuaded the band to assist. The 
collection was to go to the fund for the orphans of the sail- 
ors who go down at sea. They decorated the band stand in 
yellow and black bunting ; the band affected gold epaulettes ; 

41 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the ship’s carpenter was impelled to assist ; the photographer 
made the background ; and the night drew apace. 

The curtain rose on the next night, revealing a strolling 
band of musicians in Cuban attire before the capitol of a 
great city. The song brought a concourse of people, which 
kept increasing as the wealth of song poured out. The 
amazed crowd became enthusiastic. One threw off his cloak 
and stood in troubadour’s black velvet attire and sang. 
The singer’s voice reached its ultimate, and he pleaded for 
the release of the isle in chains and exile from manhood’s 
claim. Marmaduke lifted aloft the melody until men shout- 
ed in their exuberance. 

Then Carlos stepped out on the dais in red velvet dress 
and made an appeal : “It is a nation in bondage, paying tithes 
to a tyrant who drains them of their store, filling the cof- 
fers of an unknown land. Its forces are broken, and its 
walls are in ruins. It must be free. They have no ambi- 
tion, no aspiration. They are paupers without redress.” He 
attempted to rend the shackles from his hands and feet, 
crying: “We must be free!” 

Athenia, dressed in the Stars and Stripes, came upon the 
stage and said: “Our liberty enlightens the world; the 
beams of its radiance reach your prison walls. We, too, 
were slaves and fought for freedom. Our sister, France, 
stepped across interminable seas and made battle against our 
ancient enemy. You are not defenseless. Accept your sis- 
ter’s hand to serve you till your banner waves from your 
nation’s walls.” She bent down and struck the chains from 
Carlos’s feet and hands. 

Applause rang continuously. The quartet sang several 
selections of the Cuban cry of freedom, followed with a 
march played by the band, which was a summons of the 
nation to arms for Cuba. 


42 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The curtains, which had been drawn, now slowly lifted, 
showing a dense forest. A bourgeoise appeared in a dark 
gown and communed with angels, her arms lifted aloft, bare 
and pleading. In the throne scene she sat beside the king in 
royal array, with the setting of a palace. 

The third act rolled up on a soldier armed cap-a-pie in 
shining mail. The face of the maid shone beneath the hel- 
met, and soldiers were grouped about her. Then came the 
death scene. It was very realistic. They gave her a sound- 
ing encore; and her response, as Jenny Lind, sang its way 
into the hearts of the people. 

Athenians balcony scene was remarkable in conception. 
An Egyptian robe was girdled at the waist with brilliant 
jewels. Her radiant hair, lighted with pearls, wound about 
it ; her bare arms, circled with bracelets, held a harp, which 
she lightly touched. Up the pillar climbed her lover. A 
silver light was burning, making soft moonlight. 

The queen of tragedy moved through her part. The role 
of Octavia in Rome, as the bride of Antony, was taken by 
Dixie. The slave who brought to Cleopatra the message 
of the marriage was Marmaduke. His act was rendered 
with the best of acting. Her terrible grief, portrayed by 
Athenia, was the best of the play. The death of Antony 
and her own, by applying the asp of Egypt to her breast, 
concluded the evening’s entertainment. Then Marmaduke 
threw on the canvas stereopticon views of Rome, Egypt, the 
ruins of the desert, and many fine pictures of Paris. 

Encores were profuse. The girls caught up the baskets 
and received a handsome contribution for the orphans’ fund. 

“Mademoiselle, the Cuban scene last night would make an 
enviable painting. May an artist beg the favor of a can- 
vas?” Duroc, the French painter, asked of Dixie as she 

43 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


stood receiving compliments on the histrionic talent the 
troupe possessed. 

'‘Typical entertainers who make a hit will make settings 
for the cause, if the compensation be reasonable. Are you 
liberal queried Dixie. 

“That will be little to assent to, mademoiselle. Your 
costumes, in originality, were all to be desired,” he said. 
“Where America extends her hand to Cuba is most excel- 
lent.” 

“Nothing would awaken the cause abroad more than to 
have a painting in the Paris Salon. It will pay us to allow 
this one to be made free of charge.” Dixie smiled roguishly 
until a light of mischief came into Duroc's face. 

Clouds lay piled on the horizon; as they came up the 
hatchway, the last day out, a high wind sprang up. 

“The waves are at last alive,” Dixie murmured. “The 
ceaseless ripple has grown monotonous. I want to see a con- 
vulsive sea roll and surge and pile waves mountain-high.” 

A terrific crash answered Dixie's musings, and the light- 
ning zigzagged athwart the heavens. As the storm ap- 
proached, the wind lifted the waves like live things and 
scudded onward, followed by another fleet. Dixie's blood 
began to arouse. The sea was very rough. The monarch 
was awake, and in its fury it was leaping to meet the storm 
which had disturbed its placidity. In battle array the ma- 
jestic clouds moved onward; the fury of the gale sped be- 
fore ; the fleets of rain ran like upright battalions, one after 
another, beating the sea until the groans burst from its tor- 
tured body. It lifted its face to the heavens. The sea and 
heavens met, and then waged the elemental battle. Up and 
down sank and rose the sea, a rotary of boiling surf. 

Some one stood by the girl as she stood with blanched 
cheek and dilated eye gazing on the stormy scene. She 

44 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


knew who it was. A wrap was thrown about her. Her 
hands were clasped behind her back, her face was upturned 
to the storm, appalled, terror-stricken, as if demons waged 
war, and her eyes were fixed in their gaze. The awful 
peals tore asunder the very heavens, reverberating into the 
chasms of the deep with intonations like distant cannon of 
opposing forces. 

*'Are you afraid, Dixie?” 

She then turned, and Basil Marmaduke slipped his hand 
through her arm. 

“Yes, keep near me; it strengthens me,” the girl said, 
shuddering. “It is a mighty storm.” 

They stood looking seaward. The deep, sullen battle of 
the elements waged war like human armies, infinitesimal as 
man is beside the powers of nature. 

“The most callous nature stands rebuked before such 
display. Napoleon recognized God when he saw his power,” 
said Dixie. 

“I recognize him as he is. I fear him in the storm, and I 
see him in the calm,” replied Basil Marmaduke. 

They stood talking until the strength of the storm was 
spent, and it gradually subsided, moaning itself to sleep. 

“The wind's torrents seem like a spent child,” she whis- 
pered. 

But he was stooping to regain something which she heard 
fall. As he arose a mother-of-pearl medallion was in his 
hand. The clasp had flown open, and a face of rare loveli- 
ness looked up at Dixie. 

“How exquisite !” exclaimed Dixie. She stood entranced 
before the face framed in the jeweled locket — golden hair, 
deep dark eyes winning in attractiveness, and spiritual face 
winsome in rounded cheeks. “Fair, very fair! Who is it, 
may I ask?” 


45 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“My friend. I lost her/’ he answered with drawn face. 

“Dead ?” Dixie queried in hushed voice. 

“Married/’ he replied, with the locket clenched in his 
hand and his face like graven stone as he staggered back to 
a chair. 

“Mr. Marmaduke, what can I do for you.^” She was 
holding his hand in an agony of grief. “Let me help you.” 

Hardly a trace of life was left in Marmaduke. His pale 
face looked up at her; but his eyes, drawn with suffering, 
lacked human expression. He seemed unconscious of her 
presence. She gently disengaged her hand and walked for- 
ward on the deck. 

All that afternoon the wind intoned a requiem. The deep, 
sullen thunder reechoed replies miles away. The sea surged 
and moaned, and the mad waves flung spray unappeased. 
A north wind veered the clouds to the west. The sun sank 
in a crimson sheet in the west, leaving red banners across the 
western heavens, like furnace fires fed by Cyclopean power. 

After the sun had gone down, the stars came out, fleck- 
ing the arch above ; through fleecy clouds the moon showed 
her face climbing out of the sea as the crowds reached the 
deck after supper. Regally the moon entered her domain; 
her silver trident struck the sea, and every wave was bur- 
nished; rolling with wondrous alchemy, up, up into the 
very heavens she guided her chariot. Naught impeded her 
way; not the thinnest filament wove fretwork across her 
track ; imperially, regally she burnished heaven and sea. 

The crowd was enthusiastic that the last evening out was 
of such beauty. This was the evening of Athenia’s ball. 
She and Carlos had spent several days in getting things in 
readiness; the band had undergone a second adornment; 
the floors were waxed until standing was not in order — 
dance or retire. 


46 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


A menu had been carefully arranged with the cook, Sam, 
who promised his “young missus everything sh^u^ be per- 
zac^ly in queen’s tas’.” 

The trunks were brought back. Athenia and Dixie 
donned white lace. Dixie’s slippers hurt her feet. Athenia 
had had her wear them to bed for several nights. But as she 
lifted her white feather fan for her cousin’s inspection, 
Athenia said : “What can be the matter with your complex- 
ion? You look like a mulatto.” 

“Sea views, my love ; sea views. I am fearfully punished. 
What shall I do?” 

“Wait a moment ; I can fix it.” Athenia reached down in 
her trunk and extracted a toilet paste, set Dixie down in a 
chair, and carefully applied it to her face, shoulders, and 
arms, then lightly powdered her. “Now look at the trans- 
formation. Your white lace is all right.” 

“You dear, dear girl! How thoughtful of you to bring 
the preparation.! Self-preservation is better than tan; it 
restores my natural complexion,” said the grateful girl. 

Repeated knocks came at the doors of their double suite. 
They emerged. Carlos extended his arm and swept Athenia 
down the saloon; Marmaduke took Dixie’s arm, and they 
followed the others. 

“You are radiant to-night, my little partner. What shall 
I do when London is reached? All will be lost to me. 
'Mum’ will be the word,” said Marmaduke, his own face as 
natural as when he first came to her for a tourist’s enter- 
tainment. 

“Enjoy the present. Did you see the glorious moon as it 
came up out of the sea? I never saw a more regal sight. 
You dance divinely; it is music’s rhythm to enjoy it with 
you,” she said. 

“I stood near enough to see your delight at the moon 
47 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


climbing up out of the sea. I hardly knew which to look at, 
you or the moon; they differed not in glory,” he replied to 
her remark. 

*‘The moon was in full quarter, I in crescent. When the 
years yield me a fullness, I shall vie with the queen of night 
for your royal favor,” she replied. 

He laughed at her sally, but answered evasively: “You 
will be a scoffer, Dixie. It is your unspoiled nature and 
rare good sense which attracts. I shall lose you in the big 
world you are making such preparations to meet, cope 
with, and naturally undermine.” He was loath to part with 
her vivacious society. 

“We have arranged to meet in Rome. You can show me 
what you so love in the Eternal City. If Athens were in- 
cluded in this tour, my soul would be filled to satiety,” she 
replied. 

“I shall be content; you saved me from settled misan- 
thropy by the guilelessness of a woman's heart; my trust 
in your sincerity has renewed faith in the world afresh.” 

The beautiful number was finished; Carlos came for his 
waltz; finely formed and lithe, he danced with the poetry 
of his nation. 

“How can my cousin Athenia spare you when your ac- 
complishments are so delightful? It is an inspiration to 
dance with you,” Dixie said. 

“How charming to be so kind ! You made a picture when 
you danced with Marmaduke. It is music's response which 
makes us both enjoy dancing. Athenia has promised to 
bring me to visit you next winter,” he said. 

“Does this mean that the chains are being forged? Shall 
I tell her grandfather? Is this a stroke of Cuban diploma- 
cy?” queried Dixie. 

“Ah! mademoiselle, do you think she has all the claim 

48 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


to me?'' he archly asked. ‘'My country first. When its 
freedom is secured, then my wife," returned Carlos. 

“She is such a strong advocate of Cuban liberty that she 
is sought. Do you insist that I keep the secret?" continued 
the irrepressible girl. 

“Mademoiselle, you tease. Your dear cousin has long 
been my friend, but we have not pledged ourselves. My 
country first. Her bonds must be broken, that she may be 
among the nations. You know the spirit of a soldier. You, 
too, are a daughter of one who wore his spurs to victory," 
he insisted. 

“She would be an able ally ; her enthusiasm wins. When 
she bent as ‘America' and welcomed you to her protection, 
our hearts cried acclaim." 

“Splendid, splendid ! But a Spartan fights first for his 
country's freedom, then for his love.” This he asserted with 
such force of feeling that Dixie turned away sorrowfully as 
Duroc claimed her for his number. 

“Mademoiselle, how charming! how very charming!” he 
said as he raised his eyeglass to his eye. “You are so charm- 
ing! You must allow me to paint your picture at my studio 
in Paris. I shall be honored. You must have your cousin, 
the countess, bring you in the autumn," enthusiastically 
spoke Duroc. 

“Lady Aberdeen would be glad to receive you at Glen- 
mere. They have a grand old place there. Its natural en- 
vironment is picturesque. The ivy-grown wall, the rugged 
cliffs, and the North Sea with its stormy surf make the 
scenic incomparable," Dixie quickly responded. 

"I thank you, dear mademoiselle. I have visited the 
neighborhood for the purpose of sketching, but the beautiful 
ever attracts. In July I go for my Norway trip. On my 
way home, before the studio work begins, I shall cross the 
4 49 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Channel to you. We then can paint with the inspiration 
of the sea we both love so well, with the castle for the back- 
ground. Your father will be pleased to have the inclusion 
of his cousin’s great place. Is not that a fine arrangement ?” 
he queried. 

“You honor me, Mr, Duroc. Athenia would more fitting- 
ly honor your brush,” said Dixie winningly. 

“The wild gazelle, mademoiselle; the poise, the arched 
neck, the air !” he hastened to reply. “Stand still ; stand still 
in that pose. Ah! I catch it. Now I can paint it true. 
Keep the white lace in readiness; nothing can take its 
place.” 

“It is art to dance with a Frenchman,” Dixie thought 
after they had gone several rounds. Duroc comprehended 
technique and embodied rhythm as a violin responds to the 
master’s touch. She was in the finisher’s hands; she gave 
abandon to the muscles ; dancing became music’s echo. 

One by one the dancers fell to one side. All watched 
Duroc and Dixie as they kept on until the number ended. 
He stepped over to the musicians and said something in a 
low voice. The band began so perfect a waltz that their 
steps fell into the number’s utterance, new, sparkling, bril- 
liant. 

Refreshments were now served from the buffet. Mar- 
maduke, with whom Dixie was expected to take lunch, came 
forward. She left Duroc regretfully, for he was a charm- 
ing companion. The refreshments were quaintly served on 
pink Haviland sea shells, comprising a delightful menu, 
which the black cook took upon his exclusive cuisine ability 
to make refreshing for Athenia’s ball. With white handker- 
chiefs they gave a salute of fulsome praise to Mr. Roches- 
ter. Along the deck the dancers strolled in the white moon- 
light. 


50 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Marmaduke threw Dixie's opera cloak about her shoul- 
ders, exclaiming: “This is our last night at sea; will you 
ever forget it?” 

“It will be connected with pleasant memories, for the 
companions of this voyage are enviable. This dance has 
added double to our enjoyment, don’t you think?” she added. 

“If we all could dance as divinely as you, it would be clas- 
sified as divine art; but to the most of us poor fellows who 
do fragmentary work it is paradise lost,” he said sadly. 

“America should go into the importing business in danc- 
ing masters among her ascendant arts. It is one of the first 
steps in polishing; gradually the stimulus would be accu- 
mulative,” said Marmaduke with a serious air. “Duroc 
should see the President about it. France should send Du- 
roc as a special envoy for such needed measures ; we have 
not yet reached the polishing attitude, and we need it,” he 
said scornfully. 

“Does Mr. Marmaduke need it personally?” she queried. 

“I was speaking in the plural, including my friends,” he 
remarked politely. “We are an industrial nation,” he con- 
tinued; “the work of refining is gradually transcended as 
the culmination of our culture.” 

“Development goes hand in hand with growth; the lack 
of it immatures and makes pigmies out of representative 
conditions,” Dixie reproved. 

“That is, we are sending abroad people whose wealth 
gives entrance to thrones, who are unable to cope with the 
arts, manners, and brains of defunct Europe?” he ques- 
tioned, stung by her deductions. 

“Yes; Mr. Duroc proves it. While young, he is still mas- 
ter of all arts — developed, mature, a finished gentleman,” 
she answered, proving the assertion. 

51 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Then it is importing, especially to the West, I presume?" 
he bitterly queried. 

“It is the newer country; more com and hogs," she re- 
plied demurely. 

All poetry of companionship was completely knocked out 
of Marmaduke. This slip of a girl told truths with so much 
candor; its realness fitted, fretted; it fumed up and ranted 
at the very thing admitted. They walked the deck silent 
for a few rounds, and Dixie spoke of a visit Duroc would 
make to Glenmere later in the season. 

“Mr. Duroc will paint my picture at Glenmere in Septem- 
ber; on his return trip from Norway he will make us a 
visit of several weeks." 

“What ! Duroc will visit Glenmere ?" he questioned. 

“He has often visited the neighborhood for the scenic," 
she said. 

“And are you to sit for your picture in this white lace ?" 
was asked. 

“And a picture hat with com flowers trailing at the side," 
replied the teasing girl. 

“I shall order a duplicate. Who gets the picture?" was 
questioned. 

“Papa," she said quietly. “Shall yours be sent to Sibe- 
ria?" 

“Have it shipped to the land of com and hogs, to obtain 
some French art out there," he said, matching her teas- 
ing. 

You may be able to appreciate it five years from now, 
when you return, and make it the beginning of a school of 
high art, and she looked at him inquiringly. 

“Dixie, little girl, you mean to hurt my feelings. Don’t 
you see my earnestness?" he questioned the child- woman 
who had worsted him. 


52 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Prove all things the true, the sincere. You make preten- 
sion to manners of ancient conditions and laws of social 
precedent, which are in the first stages of progress. I detest 
shams. A Rebel is fearless in denunciation. I am a South- 
ern insurgent. The aristocracy of existence is the true lev- 
eler of life. Customs fall beneath the scales of world judg- 
ment.” Little heed did she give to the response of her 
knight of the yellow shield. 

“My ideals you shiver to pieces as icicles. You are de- 
nunciatory when you should be conciliatory. We carry a 
steel front, but our inner sources are unbuilt; our for- 
tresses are but straw ; your weapons are sharp. Cut not to 
the heart, lest you find a people awaiting the banners of 
progress, slow in acceptance, slower in perception of most 
urgent need.” 

“Keep truth's altar unsoiled, the lamps lighted, shedding 
radiance afar. Let waves leap ever so high; the sentinel 
is rock-boimd. Man looks to the foundations.” 

The proud face of the Southern girl looked at him with 
an aureole of higher soul life than had ever reached the 
undercurrents not yet wholly clogged with self-alloy. The 
fountain, not entirely congealed, came back in a startling 
action. Marmaduke reached into his pocket, drawing there- 
from a locket, and sprung the spring open and held it before 
her gaze. 

“I have something for you, Dixie. This was made of me 
when youth was in its innocence. Will you take it from me 
as a remembrance of our meeting?” said Marmaduke as he 
placed the locket in her hand. 

A face looked up at her with dark eyes, dark mustache ; 
genial, attractive, fascinating; an indistinct humor pervaded 
the face; a delicate refinement looked out of the whole; 
The rim was set in small diamonds forming the name “Basil 

53 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Marmaduke/' As she closed the case she noticed that the 
back was jeweled with a monogram in rubies. 

“How exquisitely beautiful is the medallion ! It shall 
ever be my care to keep it from all harm,” she spoke decid- 
edly, as her nature indicated. 

“What will you allow me to ask of you?” said Marma- 
duke. Dixie’s face turned toward him in the white moon- 
light. “You challenged my manhood. This is your ideal. 
In five years I will come back to you; the man then will 
not be beneath your notice. Will you write to me, Dixie? 
Through the years it will be but a sup of water in my des- 
ert,” he pleaded. 

“The very land to which you are going is alive with in- 
spiration for man’s labor. Dark Russia is a confine of hu- 
man lives. You from the Western world take a strength 
of personality, a power of existence. Whom do you need 
to furnish oil for furnace fires of such strength as I see in 
nature’s possession?” rang in words of life from the girl’s 
heart. 

54 


V. 

ENGLAND. 


They awoke in England. There was no “chug, chug"' of 
machinery and quivering of the ship. All was still, as if the 
world were asleep. Only the distant rumbling of some for- 
eign sphere indistinctly penetrated. After breakfast Athe- 
nia and Dixie boarded a train for London, Mr. Rochester 
going with them to consign them safely to the care of their 
cousin, the Countess of Aberdeen. Carlos, Duroc, and Mar- 
maduke accompanied them on their way to the metropo- 
lis and then bade them farewell, trusting that they would 
have a delightful visit abroad. They likewise responded, 
with Mr. Rochester's added farewell. 

A powdered footman met them at the door of the mon- 
ster hotel and escorted them to the reception halls. Dixie's 
spirits had risen with the demands of conditions, and she 
followed immediately behind an usher and saw standing 
near a dimly-lighted window a lady, slight, distinctively aris- 
tocratic, who raised her eyeglass to her eye and closely 
scrutinized the approach of the small party. Upon discern- 
ing the form of Mr. Rochester, the lady took several steps 
forward, a glad smile on her face, and clasped both his 
hands in hers. She then drew Athenia toward her and 
turned to Dixie, saying, “My other young cousin, welcome 
to England," and kissed her. She led them to a divan, 
chatting in the light social way of a lady very much at home 
in the world's circles. 

“What great girls you have brought me 1" said the Count- 
ess to Mr. Rochester. “Athenia, you have your father's 
eyes. How we have missed his coming to us these last years ! 

55 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The Earl misses him constantly. Will he be long in the 
Philippines ?” 

‘‘I presume that his post is stationary as long as this 
President rules/’ said Mr. Rochester. ‘‘But Athenia is with 
her grandfather. The resources of education are meager. 
We will go some day and visit him/’ he continued, laying 
his loving arm about his child’s shoulders. 

“Dixie is a Rochester. Her form is as well developed as 
a woman’s. You can be but past sixteen, having been born 
during the last year of the war. What are your athletics, to 
have attained such physical poise?” she asked. 

“Outdoor sport, rowing a boat, and horseback-riding,” 
replied Dixie easily, as one who had no fear of peerage or 
royalty. 

“The Earl must take you to hounds. Your horseman- 
ship will give you an ease at this sport,” said the Countess, 
slipping her arm about the lithe figure with an air of pro- 
prietorship. “We will take the fences with him.” She 
reached in her reticule for something and placed it in the 
elder man’s hand, saying: “The boys sent it to you with 
their very best love. The ponies are the very smallest ones 
in Scotland. They are training them to harness.” 

“Tell them next time a cart, the little rascals,” lovingly 
replied Mr. Rochester. 

The package disclosed a jeweled toothpick. How proudly 
he looked at it as the present which the little sons of the 
Earl had remembered the aged man with ! 

Dinner, served in the great dining hall, found them a com- 
panionable group, with all the newness of their acquaintance 
worn off. The elder man then bade them a fond good-by, 
leaving the girls in the hands of one to whom he could con- 
fide anything, he said. He kissed them farewell and took 
the train back to Liverpool. 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The stables had been sent to Scotland for the summer 
and the town house closed, but the coach was utilized when 
necessary. The Countess rang for the coachman and made 
an order for it for the next day. 

“Our sight-seeing will include the show places of London, 
which are still open. We can see the best of our noted 
buildings. The historic is your demand ; it is all about you. 
This palace belongs to the Earl of Essex,"' said the Countess 
at the breakfast table the next morning. 

The girls gazed about them. They noted the high-reach- 
ing ceiling with studded frescoes, the sumptuous furnish- 
ings; the hangings of suites, room after room, were of 
elegant appointment. A faint sigh stole from Dixie's heart, 
a restful sigh. She had found her rightful setting in Eng- 
land's drawing-room at the very outset of her itinerary. 

The coach met their eyes as they joined the Countess, who 
was waiting on the high steps which descended to the porte- 
cochhe. The coach was blazoned with the coat of arms of 
Aberdeen, and the coachman sat in his Lincoln green in 
high pomposity on a rear seat of the coach. 

“This is as refreshing a beginning as one would wish in 
this grand state," said Dixie to Athenia. “I like very much 
the air of that coachman, statuesque, imposing; down goes 
the headline of my 'Notes.' " 

Through the traffic-blocked streets they toiled their way 
and drew up in front of the Parliament House. The Count- 
ess dismissed the coachman for several hours and directed 
the way into the sacred environs. Situated on the Thames, 
it rises in magnificent proportions, which drew exclamations 
of surprise and delight from the girls. It contains, as is 
well known, the House of Commons and the House of 
Peers. Beneath a rich canopy at the end of the House of 
Peers was the throne of the Queen; a vestibule which the 

57 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Queen used when passing from the robing room to open 
Parliament was adorned with statues of England's re- 
nowned statesmen. So also the Royal Gallery; the interior 
decorations of this place exceeded the girl's most extrava- 
gant conceptions. They were awed by its magnificence, 
though it took but one morning to see the place of rule of 
the sovereigns of England, which had been a lifetime of 
anticipation. 

W estminster Abbey was visited after lunch. The Count- 
ess stood beneath the great dome and said: ‘*My mother 
brought me here at a tender age to teach me my first page 
in national history. Here are our world-known characters 
in stone statues, alive with deeds which heroes make. Has 
not your nation made a place for her great? It is still 
young in world achievement. It has passed but three cen- 
turies of greatness, which ancient countries blush to ac- 
knowledge, for it has all been heroic power. Her heroes 
are her colossal sculptors." 

“Not yet have her national galleries claimed this tribute 
or entombed its heroes in sacred crypts. Few have received 
this distinction at her hand. Her need has been sacrificed 
for her demands to lay foundations in the march of prog- 
ress. Her honors go to ameliorate territorial conditions. 
Her Washington, Hamilton, Jefferson, and Patrick Henry 
were succeeded by Lincoln, Seward, Grant, and Lee, her 
strengthening class. During the next decade she will begin 
statue-making in stone commemorating her heroes; the 
bones of her great will be sunk in crypts inviolate," an- 
swered Dixie. 

“Dixie, you are young to see through the lens of satire. 
America is humanitarian. The liberation of the slaves 
has made our deeds worthless. Our scars of triumph are 
deep. We fling banners of trophies to the wind, but our 
S8 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


hearts bleed with the sacrifice of the weak to aggrandize our 
flag's conquest. And now your hand is extended to Cuba. 
God is with you in breaking the chains of this feeble na- 
tion/' said the Countess, looking at Dixie as if she were 
linked with the breaking chains of the southern isle. 

The Countess escorted them to the north transept, occu- 
pied by the monuments of her warriors. But so dim was 
the light that they had to search for the distinguished ones, 
as they were so crowded. Unable to obtain a satisfactory 
view, the girls followed the Countess to the place of the 
immortelles. From out of the stones at their feet rose the 
name, ‘'O rare Ben Jonson!" 

‘‘What stone is needed to tell of his immortality?" said 
Athenia. “His commemoration links the nation with a son 
who wrote in the purest Anglo-Saxon." 

On the graves of Dickens, Spencer, and Chaucer were 
memorial tablets. There were statues of Shakespeare, Mil- 
ton, Dryden, Bacon, Burns, and many more at which the 
struggling light was loath to allow the party a studying look, 
objects of such world interest. But their souls held worship 
with the imperishable makers of literature. In the dim ca- 
thedral light they communed with the sacred dust which a 
nation clustered in crypts together, that their bones should 
not mix with common clay; and they who saw what the 
angels saw laid tribute on England’s bier. 

A great melody stole about the silent worshipers. The 
music of an anthem swept down the cathedral isles. They lis- 
tened to the chords. Not a sound of the traffic which rolled 
its restless tide stole through the thick stone structure. The 
building was impenetrable to noises in its sacred seclusion. 

They yet had time to see St. Paul's. It formed an im- 
mense cross, surmounted by a colossal dome. Athenia cried 
out in wonderment. 


59 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 

“The bell is ten feet across, Athenia,” said the Countess. 
“But see the dome. Is it not the most imposing thing of all 
we have seen ?” she asked. 

Magnificent cathedral windows filled the apse, surpassing 
all conception of the girls. They were unable to decipher 
the decorations filling the dome, for they were very far 
away. The Countess told of their meaning. 

Down a well-worn stairway she led the girls to the crypts. 
There stood the black marble coffin of the hero of Trafal- 
gar. If England had been slack in her provincial govern- 
ment, she had not been niggard in honor of her defenders. 
The funeral car which bore the hero to his last resting place 
was another monument in iron made of the guns captured 
in his victories. Wellington reposed beneath a canopy of 
marble. The sarcophagus was overhung with mythological 
figures— .“Valor,’^ *Truth,^^ “Cowardice,” and “Falsehood” 
— ^lying directly beneath the dome. 

After doing honor to England’s dead enshrouded in the 
vaults of her cathedrals, apart from the violation of earth’s 
contact, they ascended again to the audience chamber, lis- 
tening to the sound of the organ, reputed to be the finest one 
in the city, rolling its tones of magnificent harmony through 
the vast place. Climbing to the whispering gallery, they lis- 
tened to the sounds ranging through the arched ceiling ; but 
not obtaining sufficient understanding, they quietly passed 
from the cathedral. 

“The Tower will be our next. That is the gloomy pile of 
old history, yet there lies invaluable glory there. It covers 
thirteen acres and is now used as an arsenal,” said the 
Countess. 

A great drawbridge was crossed and the white tower first 
entered. 

“The little princes were murdered here by their uncle; 

6o 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


but the armor in its different stages of successive invention 
is the chief attraction. See the barbaric ! The modes are 
successively shown/^ said the Countess. As they passed 
along it was all revealed, carefully grading up to the present. 

“The Beauchamp Tower is the place of imprisonment of 
notable characters of history,^' continued the Countess, 
“See! some of the names are carved on the walls of the 
bastile, attesting to the incarceration.'' 

The Countess showed the girls the names on the walls. 
The low ceilings and narrow halls made them bend their 
heads and go single file. And there, too, they saw the guil- 
lotine of barbaric age and the block and headman's ax in a 
place of execution. 

“Countess, why does England to-day keep such relics of 
barbarism? See her glory! This is her shame. I should 
for respectability's sake use the old pile for decent pur- 
poses," said Dixie sorrowfully. 

“The name of Lady Jane Grey is your incentive for doing 
away with the skeleton of ages. She is not the last of Eng- 
land's noble prisoners. An indistinct headman's ax falls 
continually in the House of Peers without inquiry into the 
rights or the prerogatives of these mothers of empires, who 
were half of her greatness, inherited her regency, her ability, 
and her scope. The Victorian age should not close without 
the emancipation of her sex," declared the Countess. 

Wakefield Tower shone with resplendent jewels. A 
strong iron case over a glass one revealed crown jewels, 
scepters, crosses, crowns, and staffs. Queen Victoria's 
crown gleamed with over three thousand diamonds and 
three hundred other stones — ^the most wonderful glittering 
thing. 

But the dreary old pile brought them in close relationship 
with ages and ages of England's life as a nation; and the 

6i 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


history shown here as her stages passed, from the darkest 
time on to successive eras, opened doors of a past still in 
the present — both a lesson and a revelation. But it was like 
night to the girls ; and shuddering as the oppressive bugbear 
loomed over a fair horoscope, they emerged sufficiently sat- 
isfied with the passing of the Tower from their itinerary. 

“We will now go where the brightest thing of all our 
sight-seeing is.” 

The Countess pulled the latchstring and directed the 
coachman to the Museum. The tremendous building loomed 
like a large depository. Several million dollars expended 
had sufficed to cover the inestimable depository of aggre- 
gated matter. It is divided into many apartments, many 
rare and old; libraries of kings and noted men; and books 
in all languages. The spacious reading room beneath the. 
vast dome was crowded when the party of three walked in 
at two o'clock to view its area. They did not stop to in- 
vestigate the ranges of books or manuscripts, but only cas- 
ually overlooked the prints and drawings. Angelos and 
Raphaels and engravings of Hogarth were especially looked 
up. Antiquities invited their interest more. The celebrated 
Rosetta Stone, which furnished the key to the hieroglyphics 
and the excavations of Assyrian, Greek, and Roman antiq- 
uities distracted their attention. They saw the fine collection 
from Athens and Attica, among them the decorations of the 
Parthenon. 

“The Elgin Marbles!” Athenia cried. “Here are the 
sculptures of Phidias. How colossal, and how exquisite ! 
See this foot! Countess, was anything more delicately 
carved? See the arm and note the classical contour, as 
rounded as life ! How demolished ! It is hardly distinguish- 
able. Ah ! dear Countess, it is booty to retain these trophies 
of a classical nation. These came from the Temple of Mi- 

62 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


nerva. It is desecration and unworthy of the great heart of 
England to despoil the land of her greatest treasures of art; 
it is merciless to take even its soul.” 

“Greece has been pilfered of its glory; England shares 
with other nations in the treasures,” answered the Countess. 

“How can art retain her classification if you intermingle 
the renowned works of a Phidias, of Greece's ancient glory 
unsurpassed, with heterogeneous matter ? Yonder under the 
blue skies by the ^gean Sea, where art had her grace and 
her sculptor, these marbles were carved for the incomparable 
Parthenon. Nothing man has ever conceived compares with 
their intrinsic beauty. It is fitting that they should remain 
a part of Greece's ancient glory and pride,” answered Athe- 
nia. 

The Countess agreed to Athenia's outburst. “I know that 
for the sake of classified art they should have remained. 
Our Lord Byron condemned the lords of our empire for 
filching from the art pieces of Greece, but his protest was 
not comprehended in the day of ideals. Now that we, too, 
have appreciation of the artistic, it seems fitting that these 
treasures be restored to Greece.” 

They looked up the model of the Parthenon. The exqui- 
site thing of beauty only still further challenged the interest 
of the girl intensely agitated by the marked symmetry of the 
model. They stood some time enjoying the perfection of its 
design. 

The achievements of all nations in progressive stages were 
pictured, from the isles of the farther seas to Africa and its 
distinctive classification. On through ranges of wonderful 
conditions of world progress they^went, imbibing all in its 
teaching, as if an encyclopedia of world matter were open 
before them. 

“Hyde Park,” the Countess ordered ; and in the late after- 

63 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


noon the horses were turned in the direction of the swellest 
thoroughfare in London. The remnant of the peerage was 
on the boulevard; fine turnouts, the coachmen in liveried 
dress, and powdered, bewigged lackeys on the rear of high- 
seated traps. Many equestrians with a seat seldom seen 
rode finely about, bowing charmingly to the Countess. One 
kept persistently near the equipage, using his eyeglass in- 
discriminately. 

Dixie's cheeks burned with the gaze. She turned to Lady 
Aberdeen, inquiring: “Who is the knight of the black 
horse?" 

“Lord Summer, a favorite of the Earl's," the Countess re- 
plied. “We will have him out to the place for our tour of 
Scotland. He is a descendant of Robert Bruce." 

Albert Memorial stood there in the evening sunlight. It 
was erected by the subjects of the Queen. He was interest- 
ed in commerce and did large things in industrial lines for 
the people to whom he was devoted. A figure of colossal 
proportions sat beneath a golden canopy. Many sculptures 
ornamented the base — these of architects, poets, and painters 
comprising groups, reliefs, and frescoes. The top termi- 
nated in a cross on a Gothic spire. 

They left the park, driving down town and to the hotel. 
A carriage of state, emblazoned with the arms of the Queen, 
stood before the porte-cochbre. The girls looked at the 
Countess inquiringly, but she hastened up the steps into the 
vestibule and on to the suite. 

A messenger sat in the reception hall of their private 
apartments and handed the Countess a large envelope sealed 
with a crest of importance. 

What can be the event which crowns our entrance into 
England?" asked Dixie. 


64 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Windsor Castle, England, June 30, 1881. 

Countess of Aberdeen. 

Dear Countess and Friend: I desire your presence, accompanied by 
the Misses Rochester, at my early morning drawing-room. I am in- 
formed by the London Times that they are your visitors. Miss Dixie 
Rochester, I am informed, is a daughter of the line of Gen. Israel 
Putnam. The noted family intermarried with the house of Aberdeen 
several centuries back. That I should extend courtesy seemly with 
the position of respect, I desire you to attend the court with them. 

Victoria, Queen of England, 

The courier v^^as dismissed. The Countess turned to the 
girls, glad of the distinguished honor that had been accord- 
ed both to the Earl and to the foreign visitors. 

^‘Hurrah ! Invited to meet the Queen ! It is great to be a 
hero’s daughter. Novr our social fortunes are made, Athe- 
nia. All the princes of the realm will do honor at our feet. 
Get in harness for an attack.” Dixie spun around on her 
heels and danced a Highland fling. 

The dining room was overflowing with guests that eve- 
ning, and introductions followed swiftly. The gay party sat 
with the Countess, retiring to the parlors. Each evening a 
similar coterie hovered around the table where they sat. 
The evenings of gay badinage, laughter, and tales of travel 
contributed to the pleasure of the young guests. 

The drawing-room of the Queen was but half filled when 
the sonorous crying denoted the Countess’s name. The high 
chamberlain passed them to another attendant of ceremo- 
nies, who announced to the Queen the names. She extended 
the tips of Her Ladyship’s hand to the Countess and the 
Misses Rochester. 

After greeting and inquiry concerning the ladies’ interest 
in London, the Queen spoke to Dixie a few sentences of 
respect for her lineage of war: “England felt her loss in 
yielding America, but we feel less the sting when such 
S 6s 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


gallant heroes win battles. To the granddaughter of Gen. 
Israel Putnam I say that he was the Wellington of the bat- 
tle of Bunker Hill.” 

“Ah, Queen, that such words should fall from your lips ! 
You who have made your own heroes a national remem- 
brance in marble of imperishable renown — ^you easily render 
acclaim to another. Gladly for his sake do I accept for my 
nation these words of yours to-day,” replied the daughter of 
a heroic line. 

The Queen's lighted face hardly needed words to convey 
the reply as she spoke ; “The poise of the grandfather's he- 
roic spirit has fallen on the granddaughter's heart.” 

The palace was opened after the drawing-room closed. 
Many wandered through the magnificent apartments, where 
furnishings of exquisite hangings, elaborate decorations, 
sculptures, and paintings of renowned artists gave setting to 
a queenly taste. 

The gardens were entered and its greenest sward seen, 
with its fountains splashing in the sun, its walks and massed 
flora enchanting in beauty. 

“This is Shakespeare day. To-day we will lay a wreath 
on the bier of the ‘Bard of Avon.' Our great philosopher 
and Queen will be sq close in effulgence that your words of 
praise will become distorted. If the Queen knew that she 
had gained two such adherents, she would be glad,” said the 
Countess adroitly, since the girls enjoyed the urbanity of 
the crowned head of Europe. 

“Red poppies ! Red poppies ! The heaths of England are 
veritable cloths of scarlet!” said Athenia. “These beautiful 
flowers make of her broad acres a massive framing for its 
city— meadows and heaths are all abloom in beauty.” 

Down through the streets of classical Avon they drove in 
the early morning. The house was an exact reproduction of 
66 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


photos the girls had known from childhood. A dangling 
cord opened a door into an aged interior whose ceilings 
were upheld by buttresses ; the floors were unevenly settled 
through the lengfth of years. The stairway leading up to 
the upper floor, the birthplace of the prodigy, was also 
buttressed. They climbed it, though, and entered the sacred 
precinct. The scant furniture still remaining told of the 
environment of early English days. 

“What names are these?'' Dixie asked, trying to decipher 
scrolls on the windowpanes. “ * Scott' and ‘Carlyle' are all 
I can make out; they are hardly legible," she said as she 
turned back into the room for further inspection. 

“Here are his manuscripts. They are all I care for," said 
Athenia as she was allowed to handle the sacred paper. 

A chair belonging to the poet also furnished a portion of 
the remaining articles. Down by the Avon rested the re- 
mains of the man of Stratford. These were the belongings 
of a deified man with an intellectuality beyond human con- 
ception, with a range of delineation almost superhuman in 
its intense portrayal. To people the world stage with his- 
torical characters who lived and moved on the stage of 
world action in rich robes, in beggar's attire, as knave or 
miser, all truly alive, was to imbue character that it might 
ever live and draw man again to the education of world 
history. It is inconceivable of his genius. The need of 
ancient customs was filled for all time. Where again has he 
been seen ? In the cathedrals of the world, artists threw the 
delineation of Christ, that story and picture should repeat. 

Athenia and Dixie received many invitations to different 
places, but the season was so far advanced that their time^ 
was limited. A close friend of the Countess called and de- 
sired that she bring the young ladies to a garden fete the 
next evening. She had some friends from the South visiting 

67 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


her and desired to show them some courtesy ; and the weath- 
er being so warm, she had decided on the fete. 

The Countess supervised the girls* toilet and had her maid 
robe them in charming costumes. At ten o’clock they were 
ushered into a lofty saloon banked with palms. From here 
they were taken to the gardens, where lanterns, booths, and 
myriad nooks made an enviable setting for the fete. 

The Lady of Devonshire was on a slightly-elevated plat- 
form, where costly rugs and upholstery gave comfortable 
expanse for a coterie about her. After many introductions, 
the gardens were strolled through, innumerable cups of tea 
being sipped from fragile Japanese china. Dancing was 
indulged in; and at last in a far-removed booth, where a 
band played continuously, Dixie and Athenia rested, and 
there gathered about them diplomats from the Court of St. 
James. 

The talk verged on the subject of the day — Cuba. Dixie 
exclaimed : ‘‘Here is an adherent who challenges every one 
with her spirit. Cuba will soon be free.” 

They turned toward the bright face; and the Earl of 
Flanders, speaking for the crowd, asked : “Miss Rochester, 
are you teaching the old art of winning the world afresh 
with enthusiasm ?” 

“Not entirely with the demand of freedom, but of com- 
merce; its gardens lie beneath the dominion of a tyrant who 
supplies no force of redress. It is crippled, hampered, and 
fruitless beyond what is sufficient for the tithes gathered for 
the throne. It is a land able to bear harvests superior to any 
tropical field; but her people are as slaves under despotism,” 
said Athenia. 

“Cuba will be free. Her ally has never known defeat. 
All of the nations have watched the struggle of the little 
isle. She is destined to break her own fetters by her brav- 
68 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


cry. America has extended her hand. She can demand 
terms; if not accepted, her ships and guns can enforce the 
demand,*' said the Lord of Flanders. ‘‘But why is America 
sending abroad ladies so full of this war? It will not be 
long before it becomes an international subject. The Court 
of St. James is full of bravery.” 

The evening waned. Dixie and Athenia were attended to 
their coach by many lords of war who bade them adieu with 
cheers. They drove off into the night commending the de- 
lightful manners and culture of Englishmen. 

“But a few more things we can include. The National 
Gallery is something you must see. It is filled with nota- 
ble pictures. Some of the paintings cost a ransom, and our 
English work is especially fine. Millais, Landseer, and your 
father's favorite. Turner, will delight both of you,” the 
Countess said on the way to the hotel. 

On the north terrace of Trafalgar Square the famous 
structure was located, comprising twenty-two rooms. The 
Tate Gallery contained the art of England. Many illus- 
trious artists were included. Watts, who decorated Lincoln's 
Inn gratuitously, and also the magnificent Parliament House, 
which had so delighted the girls did much to establish the 
artistic interests of his nation. 

From the Venetian school Watts brought the subtle art 
of coloring, which gave him such profound rank. “Hope,” 
a woman holding a harp with a single string, is the finest 
conception of this master. Also the sculpture and paintings 
of her gifted son. Sir Henry Landseer, are excellent. “The 
Monarch of the Forest” was perhaps the best of his work. 
“A Distinguished Member of the Humane Society” was rep- 
resented by a beautiful dog. The Turner room was filled 
with masterpieces by this celebrated artist. The perception 
of color evidenced in the “Slave Ship” and a canvas of 

69 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


exquisite delineation, ‘‘Rain,” as realistic as life, halted the 
trio at the side of the canvas. “Hannibal Crossing the 
Alps” brought out the ability of this master more than any 
other picture. 

“How glad I am to see with my own eyes the pictures by 
Turner! My father always had some reminiscence of travel 
to tell us when we clustered about the fireplace at evening. 
Turner gave his theme more ardor than any other artist,” 
Dixie remarked. 

They passed into the Umbrian room of the Gallery. Here 
were the masterpieces of world-known art. Raphael's 
delicate, soft touch revealed the master’s brush blending 
strength with expression in the face of his “Madonna degli 
Ansidei.” 

“The picture was purchased by the Duke of Marlborough. 
He sold it to the Gallery for seventy thousand pounds,” the 
Countess told them as they stood gazing at a real Raphael 
for the first time in their lives. 

Gainsborough and Reynolds had many famous canvases 
in the Gallery. Many renowned paintings hung on the walls 
of one of the galleries. 

The growing darkness drove the party to their coach, as 
they intended to take the Thames Embankment on the re- 
turn drive. It was the crowning piece of driveway utilized 
by the needs of traffic, such as empire builders of Great 
Britain know how to make for the elevation of the masses. 

Cleopatra's Needle, a pedestal of the Ptolemys, rose to a 
great altitude amid the traffic of the most modem empire of 
the world. 

Several days were spent in shopping. The range of shops 
on Regent Street, the handsomest street in London, was 
intensely invigorating as a change from marble and fine arts. 

TO 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Here the array of goods spoke to the feminine exclusively. 
They delighted in turning over the dainty fabrics, buying 
weaves of looms offering exclusive choice — swisses, laces, 
and paraphernalia that women love. The principal shops 
of Cheapside, Bishop, and Leadenhall were investigated, 
until exhausted nerves cried, “Halt !” 

71 


VL 

SCOTLAND. 


Excessive heat drove the party to the Highlands and to 
Glenmere for rest. The young girls were surfeited with 
sight-seeing. Their eyes could have shot stereopticon views 
of every sight in London. 

There was no more sight-seeing for weeks, but the girls 
contented themselves with strolling along the beach, riding 
on the moors, and rummaging through the great castle into 
forgotten attics, where hung the ancient armor of the Lords 
of Aberdeen. Cedar chests gave up their secrets. The girls 
robed themselves in costumes of the dames of Scotland 
when Mary Queen of Scots reigned, and came trailing down 
the great stairway of Glenmere. 

“An idea strikes me,” said the Countess. “When we re- 
turn from our tour of the country, we will have a historical 
ball to conclude our summer’s entertainment.” 

“O ! O'!” said Athenia, clapping her hands. “I shall be 
Queen Elizabeth, with this high-standing ruff; and, Dixie, 
you must be Queen of Scots. Who will you be. Countess?” 

“Lady Jane Grey is one of my favorite characters. I shall 
portray her.” 

“And the Earl, who will he be ?” she further asked. 

“Naturally the mighty Douglas. And Lord Summer will 
be here. He will be Bruce and will dress again in the ancient 
armor and blow his horn through the forests of Scotland to 
hounds or meet the sword’s blade of the enemies of his 
house,” said the Countess, falling in line with the humor of 
Athenia. 

Their next sally was into the famous picture gallery, 
72 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


away off in an ell of the west wing. Here the walls were 
hung with portraits of the ancient families of this renowned 
Scottish name. 

“Dixie, study the faces to distinguish the portrait of your 
kinswoman. She was espoused by an Earl of Aberdeen gen- 
erations ago.” 

Dixie looked at the haughty dames with cold, proud, 
high-bom faces. One spiritual face denoted an air more 
distinguished than the rest. Golden hair lying about her 
neck and cheek crowned the face with a halo. She looked 
up at the Countess. 

“Yes, that is she. Is it not as lifelike as a human crea- 
ture? It is your ancestor. She was the most beautiful 
woman in the United Kingdom. She was sought by lords 
and courtiers and was conceded by artists of the time to 
be the belle of the British Isles. And here in the land of 
Bruce, Wallace, and Roderick Dhu she married. 

“The tie of two indomitable spirits is sovereign,” said 
Dixie. 

The Earl took them to hounds. Dixie wore the green 
velvet that her father presented her with in New Orleans. 
Well it was, for Athenia and the Countess would have out- 
shone her, since they were costumed in habits as faultless 
in fit and fashion as French equestriennes. And how she 
sat her beast ! The Earl expressed his delight at her rare 
horsemanship. But the steed — ^no horses in the world could 
excel the Earl's stables. 

“You sit your beast like an old hunter,” said the Earl. 
“The riding boot and spur give the air of necessary note. 
See if you keep your seat as we take the fences.” 

They took the fences, too, just the same as the Countess 
did, who looked back to see if they watched the ditches, 
which they took twenty feet wide. 

73 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Ah, moors of Scotland ! Ah, salty sea air ! Ah, breeze of 
brine ! The invigoration of the climate lingers yet, not need- 
ing a test of pure-food laws in its unadulterated ozone. 

The house party for August was being arranged. The 
invitations which Athenia and Dixie had written and mailed 
for the Countess were being answered. Each day a packet 
of mail was received, including acceptances. At the end of 
the week not one had been refused. 

‘"My lady is queening it, it seems. So many notable guests 
compose the party to do the historic!'' remarked Dixie to 
Athenia. 

“Who would not escape sooty London for the paradise of 
the gods? The sea view and the pounding roar of the cliff 
music would entice the stars. Why do some of the human 
family live in the daylight of life and the balance in the 
depths of night?" asked Athenia. 

“Location, merely location," said Dixie. 

The great globe of red rose out of the sea the first of 
August, tipping the waves with crimson and reflecting a 
blazoned sky. 

Dixie took up the shell basket the fishman's wife had 
taught her to make, saying : “I shall steal one more morning 
by the sea while Athenia goes with the Earl to meet the 
guests, and you so occupied. No more solitude for me down 
on the shores, no more long strolls along its responsive na- 
ture. Perhaps it will throw me some jewel from its casket 
this last mom to repay me for all my worship. Au revoir. 
Countess." 

“Be at the castle promptly at one o'clock and dress. You 
must be properly attired to meet the guests. But you are 
lovely in that white frock. If girls only knew how to dress 
as you and Athenia do !" she smiled. “It is the overdoing 
which spoils so many costumes. Adieu till one.” 

74 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Dixie climbed down the rugged cliffs to the tossing sea. 
The fishmen were singing as they dragged their nets miles 
up the shore. The sea was wild here. In stormy weather 
it dashed the spray from its billows over the cliffs onto the 
lawn. They of the sea loved its turbulent tide, but to-day it 
lay in sunlight calm. 

All morning Dixie plaited seaweed for her chair, which 
the fishwives had also taught her to weave. Then she began 
her usual search for spoil. As she strolled up the white 
sands she eagerly grasped a starfish lying with protruding 
peaks staring at her. The sea had sent her its first gem, a 
prize from its casket, after all these weeks of worship. 

But now she must be going. She went back, gathered up 
her work and the dry seaweed now ready on the beach, and 
began her ascent of the cliffs. Some one was already with- 
in her domain before the graven time. “Ah ! in white flan- 
nels^ white hat, black eyes, and black mustache.'' Her heart 
stood still. Was it Basil Marmaduke? No. But who was 
it ? Where had she seen the face before ? She gasped : “The 
knight of the black horse !'' 

“Are you a guest?" Dixie inquired. 

“Lord Summer, madam," he replied, removing his hat 
with exquisite air. “The Countess sent me to find a little 
girl on the beach and bring her to lunch." 

“How small?" 

“About sixteen," he smiled, revealing matchless teeth. 

“Shall you search farther?" 

“Would you?" 

“Yes, if I had not foimd her." 

“Have I?" 

“Miss Rochester?" 

“Dixie Rochester." 

“I am the only Dixie Rochester at Glenmere/* 

75 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


They were up the cliffs now, strolling along beside them. 

When they had reached the tower, Lord Summer looked 
up at the lighthouse, saying: “The Earl has a grand old 
place. It is noted over the seas for the light which ever 
shines in the tower.” 

“The fishmen's wives tell me that this light is blessed by 
them when they go to sleep; for when the lion rouses on 
these cliffs no mariner dare steer or drift.” 

“The Earl has promised a fishing party when we complete 
our tour. Scotland keeps her brag amid the nations as a 
sporting refuge for wearied men,” he continued. 

“It is a chief sport amid its attractions. Are you a good 
fisherman ?” inquired Dixie. 

“Yes, I like a good catch. Few men have a better record 
in the art.” 

“I shall implore the god Neptune for calm seas and many 
shining coats of mail to adorn your wonderful feats in rival- 
ry of the Earl’s, for he simply can’t be beat. You see how 
considerate I am of our guest.” 

He looked at her half laughing; but a keen insight into 
Americanism in dauntlessness made him turn an admiring 
look toward her, saying: “For which I shall do myself the 
honor to see that each menu is supplied with every catch of 
the sea. Are you clever at the piscatorial art ?” 

“I am a poor fisherman, but age may mature my hand. I 
have no waiting propensities ; it is labeled fine art.” 

“Leisure is the fisherman’s luck,” said Lord Summer. 

By the close of the week beautiful Glenmere was filled 
with guests escaping the heat. They found the Highlands 
exhilarating in freshness and clearness of atmosphere, a 
rescue from the awful pall of smoke which enveloped Lon- 
don. 

The sea dashed its spray restlessly, turbulently, throwing 

76 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


its cooling breath to exhausted humanity. Fishing vessels 
and Norwegian coasters brightened the distant expanse. 

Great Glenmere awoke. Every room was in demand, for 
hospitality had sought shelter beneath her roof. She re- 
sponded with the welcome of her lords. After a week’s 
recuperation they were to tour the historic and scenic places 
of Scotland. 

A touring coach stood at the porte-cochere one morning. 
It held seats for twenty. The big horses were ranged in 
pairs. They sniffed the air and pawed the ground in impa- 
tience to be off. The guests were all seated at last; and 
with a crack of the whip and a long blast from the bugle, 
sounding away in the hills, the party started. The fresh salt 
sea blew its breath across their faces. The mists overhang- 
ing the mountains lifted when the sun swept its rays over- 
head, and there broke through a distant canvas undupli- 
cated. 

Hours of fast driving brought them, at the close of the 
day, to the crest of the mountain road, where gleamed in the 
setting sun a body of water lying like a sapphire inclosed 
by mountains. An isle lay in its heart. Katrine and El- 
len’s Isle lay asleep. Ben Lomond, five miles distant, lifted 
its eternal heart and shouted its being in its turbulency. 

Days of happiness filled the allotted time — days spent in 
an oblation at a shrine, the Mecca of devoirs offered on 
Scotland’s altar reared by her Bruce, her Wallace, and sung 
by her poet. Sir Walter Scott. 

The party dismounted, stiff from the long drive, and made 
preparations to raise tent. The horses were picketed on the 
upper lands. Supper from the hampers was spread on the 
grass. Rugs were laid along the bank of the lake for com- 
fort in preparation for a week’s stay by the lakes of the 
Highlands. 


77 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


After a while, when the men had finished smoking their 
pipes, the Earl stood up and said : “Lord Summer is a lineal 
descendant of Bruce, the hero who has entwined his heart 
with our land. Scott, who wrote the story of Scotland in 
verse and song, has found an interpreter in her later son. 
He will recite the 'Lady of the Lake." "" 

Lord Summer began in the even tones of the master. The 
valor underlying the exquisite meter of the recitation lifted 
itself and rang in tones of challenge as the heroic stirred his 
heart, dear to him who so loved the spirit of the poet. On 
the verse flowed from his lips, changing from intrinsic 
heights of national love of country to the soft lines of deep 
feeling, rendering a completeness of the interpreter's art, 
as Handel might Mozart. 

Dixie coaxed him to recite again. “Marmion"" was the 
selection he made. The day was just waning away. On the 
mountains lingered the rays of a burnishing sun. They 
were sitting by the lakeshore they all loved so well when 
he began in a low, modulated voice. On and on he swept 
the lines, his young manhood throbbing with his poet song, 
the tones growing stronger in thrilling words, he climbing 
the height of his aspiration. At last, spent with the por- 
trayal, his voice sank like the lightly-touched strings of a 
violin. But they knew that the poet lived again, for the 
story vibrated with the recounting of the history of Scot- 
land's glory. 

Athenia kept her eye on Dixie as the master played with 
the strings of the golden harp. When he had finished, she 
said: “Dixie, shall we import him, like Duroc? We can 
have painting, dancing, and recitation."" 

But Dixie cried her a retort : 

*‘I can tell you of our rivers, of our free and flowing tides ; 

Of our mountains in their fastness, of our plains so boundless wide ; 

78 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Of the seas which lave her bosom as they swell on either side; 

Of the trees of her forests lifting up their regal heads ; 

Of the underlying minerals gleaming in their rocky beds” — 

“Poet ! poet V they cried. 

“And the lakes on yonder border in a cluster large as seas — 

Tell me, world traveler, where is beauty such as these?” 

Lord Summer sent his hat sailing in the air, and the 
rocks resounded with his applause. 

The time was spent. The horses, that had been quietly 
grazing, were hitched again to the coach. The teamsters 
loaded the big hampers on the wagon. The tourists, wan- 
dering along much-used bypaths, were at the hour of de- 
parture. Dixie was loath to leave the lakes. 

“It is so natural that I should be here looking on this 
blue expanse! The history it incloses in its depths falls 
upon an impressionable nature. Its wrongs are a part of my 
heartstrings and tug for reparation. What binds its heart 
binds mine. Where her blood fought, mine lifts the blade,” 
she said to Lord Summer as they stood looking down into 
the blue deeps of Lomond. 

“Nations are eternal, history is imperishable, and nations 
rise and fall; but the heart lives on like a forest tree that 
throws its huge limbs into the sky and blossoms. Leaves 
fall aad seasons change, but the tree exists,” he said to the 
soul of the woman speaking to the descendant of Bruce. 

The drive to Stirling Castle wound around mountain 
views where nature was outlined for miles in historical 
scenery. It was a day faultless in clearness and intoxicat- 
ing in freshness. Stirling Castle rose grim, turreted, sheer 
four hundred feet in the air, a cupola of sight-seeing. 

“From the wall of the castle we can see the river Forth 
as it ribbons through the far expanse of meadow, lending 
grace to the view,” Lord Summer said to Dixie. “Yonder,” 

79 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


he continued, “is the field of Bannockburn, where Robert 
Bruce won the victory over King Edward and the freedom 
of Scotland with his good sword.” 

Dixie again voiced the sentiment which so agitated her 
back at Lomond: “Who would not fight for Scotland?” 

His face lightened: “If America spare her daughter to be- 
come inoculated with the battles of the Lost Cause abroad, 
who will fight at home or inspire the inert ?” 

“She is tutoring us in world battles, that we may be more 
able to defend her cause abroad and meet the foe at home,” 
answered Dixie. 

“Let it not be I. I would not meet the blade of that 
house ; it would run me through at a single thrust,” he said, 
shaking his head dramatically. 

“Sharpening my blade on the blades of the lords of em- 
pires would only make me their debtor. No foes have I to 
fight. Being a simple child of nature, I was not made to 
fight, but rather to soothe where the enemy has already spent 
the blade,” she answered. 

The party entered the castle over the drawbridge and 
climbed the worn steps, going through the corridors into the 
historic, where so many of the events of stirring days oc- 
curred in the fortress. 

“This is Douglas room, where King James had his 
famous quarrel with the mighty Douglas. The King stabbed 
his friend when he would not accede to his demands and 
threw his body down the steep cliffs through the window. 
Here also is the room into which Roderick Dhu was thrown 
after the famous battle with James Fitzjames.” 

Then they turned away from the blight darkening the 
page of a great nation to scenes more pleasant. They then 
visited the room of Mary Queen of Scots, where little King 
James was born; the gardens where she gamboled with 

8o 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the young son ; and the window where she looked down on 
the courtyard at the vassals at play. On through the 
mighty fortress the Earl guided the party, telling the tales 
of ancient history. The guns studding the walls in the view 
of the sea were insufficient now to defend the fortress, the 
Earl told them. The modern artillery could destroy it in a 
week's time. 

The lakes gleamed in the distance, and the monument of 
Wallace lighted a scene incomparable as they emerged from 
the gloomy pile and stood viewing the expanse of nature. 

Edinburgh was next in the itinerary, and it is one of 
the most beautiful cities of Europe. Its parks and suburbs, 
public squares, fine buildings, and range of picturesque hill- 
sides give a beautiful setting. It is an intellectual center 
and has an equipped university which originated with the 
reformers for education. The fame of the university was 
greatly increased by the medical professors. Goldsmith, 
Scott, Carlyle, and Darwin were among the eminent grad- 
uates of the learned men. The botanical museum, natural 
history museum, and other equipments make it one of the 
most enviable schools. 

Waverly Monument, Edinburgh's greatest ornament, at- 
tracted the visitors first. It is a superb Gothic structure two 
hundred feet high, and the poet sits in the center with his 
dog at his feet. 

‘‘Holy rood Palace still lifts its head in defiance of na- 
ture's battlements, clothed with rich history. It was an 
abbey in King David's time. Here was the residence of 
Mary Stuart, and here Rizzio was murdered. On the site 
of the university, Kirk-o'-the-Field, was the residence of 
Darnley. He was blown up by a gunpowder explosion. 
You remember, the Queen was thought to have been impli- 
cated with Bothwell. The matter was concluded by Both- 
6 8i 


THE GIRL WHO LOVElD THE LAND 


well’s marrying the Queen after divorcing his own wife,” 
Lord Summer said to Dixie. 

“Yes, divorcing his own wife. It is too dark for my faith. 
My trust is shattered by her last marriage with the last man, 
especially by the divorce of his own wife,” said the Southern 
girl. 

“Not necessarily. You must consider the youth of the 
Queen and the confidence she had in Bothwell. She had her 
country at heart, and he was her adviser,” answered Lord 
Summer. Dixie was uncomforted, and he said: “I have 
something to show you if we walk up the mountain. Di- 
vorce has become the peril of the nations. A thing which 
was a relic of barbarism has become the pet of modem soci- 
ety. The licensed lives of the world hiding under the laws of 
modern methods has undermined all home life. It is an 
inferno,” said the lord of one of the oldest nations. 

“The demise of national life, harboring dynamite beneath 
the stmcture of ages, is still in a maelstrom of indecision. 
We have no divorce in the South; it retains established cus- 
toms,” said the girl, alive with the corroding sore of the 
day. 

“The world license of man is unbridled. Ostracism is the 
cure. The laws of true society are established. He who 
mutilates let him die without the camp,” answered he of the 
line of Bruce. 

“Good !” Dixie extended her hand. “Let the nations be 
agreed upon the infringement of her moral law, and woe to 
the traitor !” 

Authors' Seat had then been reached. Lord Summer 
lifted his hand. Dixie looked upon the magnificent Forth 
Bridge, the second largest in the world. 

“It is thirteen miles away,” he said. 

They sat resting from the long climb up the hill and 
82 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


looked upon the environed scene filling the interior view of 
the span thrown across the great river of Scotland. 

**What is the North doing with this question since Dixie 
is free?*" he questioned. 

“Assuming the mental worry; no longer is the gleaming 
escutcheon of American names stored amid her proud 
achievements lofty with the dignity of character. Its bitter 
trail of dishonor has besmirched until the emblems of puri- 
ty are calloused and stained irreparably. World license of 
barbaric slavery to passion has run riot and set its seal of 
death/* Dixie answered bitterly. 

“I knew you had a message. Women are not bom with 
the proud spirit of world fighters of national shame unless 
the message rings forth to challenge manhood and reestab- 
lish standards/* Lord Summer spoke admiringly. 

“Morality has few standards left. They are stale, obso- 
lete adages. Ridicule has established her court. Her vota- 
ries test us with new methods. We are conspirators against 
her creeds, tried, sentenced, and guillotined by the crusts 
we have suffered to save,** Dixie said scornfully. 

“It is a troubled sea. The ship will not sail into the har- 
bor with flying colors after tossing the raging deep,** he said 
in answer. 

“The cargo is water-soaked with brine of the sea. It 
would be better to sink it and save contamination,** was re- 
torted. 

The party waited for the ones who had gone up the hill 
at St. Giles ; and after a tour through its corridors and an- 
cient domain, they all drove to Calton Hill, a grassy emi- 
nence in the eastern part of the city, where were ornamen- 
tal monuments of both nations. Chief among them were 
those of Nelson and Bums. 

The height of their endeavor was reached in Abbotsford. 

83 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Dome and minaret, surrounded by an undesirable wall, de- 
tracted from the world-known view of the home of Sir 
Walter Scott. From the rear they entered a hall-like 
place where the souvenirs were. Books and pictures for 
sale were shown. They entered the library, which con- 
tained the desk upon which the author composed his manu- 
scripts, and the chair which also was the historic chair of 
the wonderful man who wove in verse the richest contribu- 
tion of his time. The shelves contained many volumes and 
manuscripts. His personal tastes were also revealed by the 
collection of curios, belts, buckles, swords, and hunting para- 
phernalia, all of ancient date. 

“No pen can portray the feeling which overcomes one 
when the eye falls on these mementoes of the author of 
‘Lady of the Lake' as one comes in such close touch with 
that which his personality conveys,” said Dixie to Lord 
Summer. 

“ ‘Lady of the Lake' was composed of material woven out 
of the brain of the master and linked with the subject by all 
of nature's environment. The threads were imagery of in- 
imitable grace and polished with a composition enshrining 
him in the world of letters as a poet without a contempora- 
ry,” Lord Summer replied to her spoken enthusiasm. 

“Down the way yonder is the path which his own foot- 
prints made on the way to Melrose Abbey. Shall we tread 
the path together?” 

“The Abbey is but a ruin now. Time has wrested it in its 
toils, battled down its fagades, and thrown down its walls. 
The grass-grown floor is heaped with the stones of its struc- 
ture,” said Lord Summer sadly. 

In the morning, after emerging from Abbotsford, they 
went three miles down the pathway, followed by the party. 
The ruins of the Abbey stood like the Temple of Thebes. A 

84 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


remnant of departed land triumphs, here in the environs of 
the grass-grown temple lay imbedded her history. 

*‘Here the heart of Bruce is interred,'' said Lord Summer. 
“And here, too, is the grave of the mighty Douglas." 

Dixie leaned by the grave of Bruce and gathered some of 
the trailing moss and laid it between some letters in her 
pocketbook. She lifted her eyes, suffused with tears, to 
Lord Summer, who took her arm, and they retraced their 
steps back over the pathway to the coach. 

Back to Glenmere over the Scottish hills, back where the 
brine dashed against the white cliffs! How delighted the 
party were when the wall of her palace rose out of the ex- 
panse! Mail and Duroc. Duroc, his vacation ended, had 
crossed over to Glenmere. His canvases quite filled the end 
of the entrance hall. He stood on the steps with bared head 
as they drove around the driveway to the steps and assisted 
them to alight. 

“It is a joy to see you. All summer I have been among 
the glaciers. It is a glad day to clasp your hand," eagerly 
said Duroc as Dixie alighted beside him, and they entered 
the hall door together. 

“How can you descend to the human ?" asked the delight- 
ed girl as she met her friend. “It will pall on your taste." 

“But you, too, were communing with the gods. Back 
yonder you trod in the footprints of Scott. You entered the 
sanctum of the holies. Where has nature laid her hand with 
so caressing a touch?" asked Duroc. 

They turned to the canvases, and Duroc continued: “I 
have some fine work here for you to criticize. I brought 
them, as you desired. Have you danced away the lace 
dress ?" 

“No; I shall rechristen it this evening in your honor. We 
are glad to have you visit Glenmere." 

8s 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“It is a great old pile and an incomparable sea view. You 
have enjoyed it much, I know. Miss Rochester. What have 
you done at work ?” 

“Idled away all the summer waiting for inspiration.'' 

“What lassitude has overcome you? You were the radi- 
um of the ship." 

“That's what I am recuperating from," answered Dixie. 

“Are you reenforced ?" 

“No; my energies are prostrated with the tour of sympa- 
thy we have just returned from. It is Milton's Taradise 
Lost.' What nation is so dear as Scotland ? It is the height 
of the historic. What nations yet so mourned? Scotland 
and Poland," affirmed Dixie. 

“Their nobility makes them the Niobes of nations," Duroc 
said sadly. 

The Earl now came hastily through the drawing-room and 
straight to his guest with many apologies after Dixie intro- 
duced them. 

“I am seemingly acquainted with you, your work is so 
familiar to us. The canvases of Gordon's are superb. Hhe 
Hunt' has made you immortal. Come with me now and 
allow me to show you to your room." 

They went up the long stairway to the east ell and down 
a corridor to a large chamber overlooking the sea. 

“You can see the ships far to the north, and from the 
south window you can see as far." 

“It is admirable, thank you. I came to paint Dixie's pic- 
ture and littered up the hall with canvases, for which I beg 
your pardon. The servant said to leave them until your 
return. You have a majestic place here. I have often 
viewed it from afar with longing eyes to get the cliffs in 
with the castle. It is no ordinary castle." 

“We instructed the servant to give you every attention. 

86 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Has your summer been profitable? Judging from your can- 
vases in the hall, you are diligent,” and he smiled. 

“But only a few are in a stage of presentation, yet I will 
hang them if you like. Miss Rochester wished me to bring 
them so that she might obtain some conception of the Norse- 
men's life. Fve got several scenes of national home life 
which will work up fine. It is tremendously grand there, 
yet it is impossible to encompass so much grandeur in its 
inaccessibility. It gives the sesthetic a great exuberance.” 

“No, the stupendous cannot be conveyed with the brush ; 
only the fragmentary, and that is tantalizing,” said the Earl 
consolingly. 

A week passed, and many excursions began to the stored 
attics, where chests were rifled of their costly stores. Ar- 
rayed in costumes of the royal dames of long ago, the ladies 
took seam and laced in high-boned corsages and pushed 
their aristocratic toes into high-heeled slippers. 

The Earl took the men to the room in which were stored 
the suits of armor, many a glittering helmet, and many a 
Scotchman's dress with kilted plaid. Many clanging swords 
were fitted to the side. Many a knight in slashed velvet 
with crimson mantle strode through the palace gates of yore, 
his buckled slippers resplendent with diamond studs. 

The night of revelry came. The great ballroom of Glen- 
mere was alight with a myriad of candelabra; the floor 
was waxed by an art unknown to the present day. The 
great hall was lined with lords in waiting. James Fitz- 
james was waiting for Queen Elizabeth. Lord Douglas 
stood at the foot of the steps of the great stairway and won- 
dered why Lady Jane Grey dallied at her dressing table so 
long. Bruce, halted in yonder alcove, assured Mary Queen 
of Scots that the heels of her slippers were sufficiently high 
to suit his lordly taste. Wallace stood in lord’s attire and 

87 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


beckoned to Roderick Dhu, impatient that Anne Boleyn 
tarried. Lords stood in groups in Lincoln green and in 
hunters’ garb. One regal Scot in plaids, wearied with wait- 
ing, lifted his horn to blow a blast through the woods, when 
down the steps came Highland Mary. He dropped his bugle 
to his side and extended his arm. Down the stairs came 
trooping the Queen and ladies in waiting. The stairway 
filled with magnificent personages glittering with jewels. 
Court trains of crimson velvet, silk, and satin gleamed in 
shimmering folds. 

Each lord met his lady, slipped her daintily-gloved hand 
under his arm, and marched into the lighted ballroom. The 
minstrels, long-waiting, broke into a glorious minuet. The 
strains rang out from the ancient instruments in notes which 
made James Fitzjames lead out Queen Elizabeth onto the 
floor opposite Bruce and Mary Queen of Scots. The ladies 
and lords took their places on the floor. The minuet was 
treaded through, the Highland fling dexterously executed, 
and gayety sped on wings of flitting hours. 

The hall clock tolled out the hour of twelve. Each couple 
filed into the high-wainscoted dining hall, where gleamed 
the festal boards and a massive chandelier shed light. They 
sipped the famous beverages and tasted the delicate dishes 
of the menu of kings. At last, with exquisite courtesy, 
Queen Elizabeth lifted to her lips a frail glass and drank the 
health of Douglas, the banquet’s host. All followed her 
toast. 

The band began again the Scottish airs. One by one the 
ladies passed, while the lords stood with bowed heads, and 
the dancing was resumed. In the wee hours of morning 
the ladies trailed back up the stairway to their rooms, where 
sleepy maids unlaced satin slippers, loosened corsages, and 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


took down high-piled powdered hair. The beds and couches 
then received the weary incumbents. 

Late in the afternoon the ladies strolled onto the sward 
overlooking the white cliffs where the sea dashed its wild 
spray. All day they had kept dark the bedchambers for 
nature to recuperate her lost forces; and now as they filed 
across the lawn in their white dresses the day had flown 
into the evening, and the sun was lingering but an hour in 
the west. The gentlemen, who had preceded them, offered 
chair and seat, asking about the health of the ladies since the 
ball. Duroc strolled over to where Athenia and Dixie sat 
on a settee in circular design about a tree. 

^'Mademoiselle, may I paint the ball of last evening?” he 
asked of Dixie. "It will make a regal canvas.” 

"What ball ? What do you mean ?” 

"The ball we had last night,” answered the unsuspecting 
Duroc. 

"I haven't heard of a ball,” said the imperturbable Dixie, 
looking away over the waves. 

"Mary Queen of Scots danced several numbers with Rod- 
erick Dhu. There is a painter who wishes to paint the 
scene at the great stairway as the ladies came down to meet 
the lords in waiting and craves permission of the Queen to 
present it to the good Lord Douglas.” He fell upon his 
knees as he proffered the request. 

"Rise, Sir Knight. Your request is granted,” said Dixie 
as she extended her hand and raised him from the grass. 
He bent and kissed the tips of her fingers. 

Lord Douglas gave him sittings for several days. In the 
picture gallery of Glenmere hangs the great canvas, the 
most highly-prized canvas of the Earl's. He told Dixie that 
she was the best investment of the summer, as Duroc would 

89 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


never have been a guest beneath his roof if her lace dress 
on the ship had not caught his artistic eye. 

But now beautiful Glenmere lost her guests daily. Lord 
Summer and Duroc were the only two remaining. The 
former had accepted the EarFs invitation to remain for the 
September fishing; and Duroc spent part of his time at the 
same sport and gave the long autumn days to his easel. The 
painting grew apace. The magnificent canvas of the ball 
filled almost half of one end of the art gallery, where the 
Earl had fitted a comer for Duroc's convenience. He se- 
cluded himself to its environs and emerged only to partake 
of the evening hospitality after once entering its confines. 

But they made gay the evenings in the castle. The ladies 
always had some interesting arrangement to entertain their 
honored guests. Many brave rides the four took in the early 
hours of morning among the cliffs, mountains, dells lying 
in solitude in far-off wilds, and the favorite rounding of 
the sea miles up the coast. But it was Duroc's inspiration. 
After a strong cup of coffee he fell to his work as if in- 
spired. 

The evenings were given to the lawn. Here the Countess 
spread the evening repast just as evening fell, and the sea's 
constant moan soothed into calm the restless heart of man. 

During the evenings the Earl talked of his viceroy ship in 
India and far-away Syria. Jerusalem had been the home of 
Lord Summer when as a boy he attended his renowned fa- 
ther, who had been sent by the King to take charge of the 
excavations while searching for the Temple of Solomon and 
archaeologies of that time pertaining to the ancient setting of 
the lives of the Jews. Duroc interspersed with many anec- 
dotes of varied tours to Madeira, the picturesque Borneo, 
and St. Helena. The latter had claimed his brush, render- 
ing scenes of the man Napoleon which sold fabulously 

90 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


in Paris. It yielded pages illumined with quaint bits of 
travel. Then they sang, Dixie rendering some old folk songs 
from the land of Dixie, accompanying with her harp, which 
they seldom would forego. Some duets with which Athenia 
accompanied her made melody which the Southern tem- 
perament assisted with glowing coloring to fill in a home 
life simple in its homelikeness. 

As one of these evenings was finished, Duroc called to 
Dixie to be in readiness for him to paint the picture she had 
promised him. The ball canvas was completed, as far as he 
intended, until he reset it at his studio. After breakfast they 
would forego their usual ride to get the early hour in its 
freshness, as he wished the childhood as much as possible in 
carelessness of youth. 

The Countess robed her. Duroc took her out by the wall. 
She leaned her arm on the parapet, her long auburn hair 
tossing in the wind, with its falling waves and curls careless- 
ly thrown back, her head tilted upward as he liked it best, 
and her face turned to the North Sea. As the sea leaped at 
the base of the cliffs and she became absorbed in its storm- 
ing billows, he caught his brush and painted as only Duroc 
could. 

For days he kept his studio, and then those who knew 
Dixie best were invited to give criticism. Lord Summer 
used his eyeglass discriminately to detect a flaw, if so it 
might be. The Countess looked long and interestedly. The 
Earl and Athenia studied it as if their interests were greater 
than all ,* but it was unscathed, as was all of Duroc's work, 
be it portrait or landscape. It passed uncriticized, and lav- 
ish praise satisfied him of its success. 

It was then packed with the others for shipment to the 
studio ; and his allotted time far exceeding his arrangements, 
he made speedy his date of departure. 

91 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“We will take Duroc to the early train, Dixie,” said Lord 
Summer. “He goes at six- forty. Can you and Athenia be 
ready at the early hour?” 

“So the Earl said, and Athenia has given orders to awake 
us. Yes, I could not forego this last courtesy to such a 
friend. Few life friends we make. Those we like don’t 
like us; those who like us we aren’t after,” said the jolly 
maiden. 

“Strong personalities always choose characteristic na- 
tures. Duroc impresses one so with fine individuality that 
it is impossible to refuse him one’s confidence, ^stheticism 
is exacting in forming friendships. One should be glad to 
be included in his list of friends,” charmingly said Lord 
Summer. 

“O how fine to render unto the gods tribute ! May many 
wreaths fall on his altar of loyalty! To include Lord Sum- 
mer is exacting the incense of all friendships.” 

He looked closely at her face to see if mirth was in the 
words of the strong-hearted girl ; but seeing none, he said : 
“To be Dixie Rochester’s friend a man lays down his life 
and takes it not up again. Can Duroc offer as good a 
bond?” 

“Lord Summer, it is not for a girl to bind to her cause 
deep friendships. It may take one through bloody seas to 
offer the shield to her life of freedom. She tampers not 
with conventions; she provokes to higher causes. The 
broad sword of justice is unsheathed; it recks not with fame 
or famine, king or prince.” 

“The dauntless spirit of a Marion speaks from your soul. 
Tamper not with the absurdities of a day’s breath. You 
will climb heights while men and women cringe by the side 
of the molten calf, worshiping. To be your friend one 

92 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


would yield his all,” said Lord Summer as if inspired with 
a mission. 

“Poor Duroc was the cause of your inspiration. I yield 
him this lance of brave knights. I shall fight few battles. 
The day of guild is at hand. A novitiate must enter prov- 
inces and blindfold eyes; diplomacy is the day’s art. Kings 
and courtiers bow. I am learning statecraft. My insurgent 
soul toils not,” said the irrepressible Dixie. 

“Mock not. Your former statement said that your sword 
recked not with its thrusts. Diplomacy has invidious plans. 
You could not enter its court. Your face would not give 
you admittance. Forego a trial at its barred gate,” he said 
warningly. 

“Sorrow not. Lord Summer. Woman must be mistress of 
the situation. The day is at hand when statecraft dismisses 
all conscience. Craft is the power of position. I need not 
enter foreign courts or be molested to learn foreign ways. 
The art of winning the world is the day’s demand. I would 
pupil to a world school,” said ingenuous Dixie. 

“Both fool and seer, both knave and patriot, both queen 
and beggar! My friend is losing her bright star of ascend- 
ancy. I am loath to let you go,” said the Lord sadly. 

Athenia came slowly down the steps arrayed for her mis- 
sion for the Countess to the burg and accosted Dixie and 
her escort. 

“Adieu, my Lord. At another time we will battle for 
ascendancy. Get me a position at yonder courts of your 
King. I am a diplomat.” 

With a mocking bow Dixie followed Athenia, who was 
jaunting to the little burg, but a half hour’s walk, on an im- 
portant purchase for the cousin. They passed rapidly down 
the road and were soon lost to view. Lord Summer returned 
to the porch, where he sat musing, looking off to the sea filled 

93 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


with bright craft busy at fishing. The dauntless American 
girl had caught the unwary knight in toils of innocent youth. 
Speech of mocking seriousness showed her a student in 
world matters far beyond her years. Her lofty soul recked 
not, as she said, with travesties. But this late speech she was 
learning — statecraft. What did she mean? Would the gay 
girl study statecraft ? What had she found abroad which had 
inclined her to seek diplomacy? Were they all invidious 
scoundrels? Was it her lesson on the high life of English 
society which had amused her innocent soul and aroused 
her speech? He ran over the lists of people the Earl had 
up for the tour and found several specimens which Dixie 
could easily have found suspicious if her latent soul was 
open to the assault of hypocrisy. 

Dixie had changed ; this was apparent. It were better had 
she never entered the gates of this house and been thrown 
beneath the dried customs of court life and thus spoil inno- 
cent ideals. But it was past. Her travels would not be 
among them long ; it would blow over. Lord Summer arose 
and joined the Earl in a game of tennis. 

Glenmere fell back into her wonted quiet. All day the 
Earl and Summer fished. The girls agreed to take down 
lunch, first one and then the other. They sat on the shore 
and chatted or strolled along the beach with the Lord, while 
the Earl lay back and smoked. September ran her golden 
days like thread unwound from a glittering spool. The 
sun lost its glare in the northern latitude, shining in sub- 
dued light. As ever, the fresh sea leaped in long rolling 
waves on the beach. So the young lives were cemented into 
a bond of friendship. Lord Summer and Dixie pledged 
eternal union of friends, laughing and chatting like gleeful 
children. Their chats were light and free from restraint. 
She knew that depths lay beneath the gay exterior, but she 

94 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


stirred them not. She saw his eyes fill with slumbering light 
again and again, but he turned his head as if to avoid some- 
thing. After constant attention and constant attendance the 
last afternoon came. 

“It is impossible to go, Dixie, to tell you good-by. Our 
autumn days have so filled my life that it wrenches my last 
effort to part from you. It is a bulwark for a man, your 
fresh young womanhood all unspoiled with world ennui. To 
give you up just when I found you gives me a reckoning. 
What can a man do ?” 

“You who have all the world to enjoy, every door of 
Great Britain is open to you. My flitting presence will soon 
be a myth, my Lord.^" 

“How long will it be before you return to Europe to enter 
the University of Berlin?” he asked. 

“About two years. I will spend my summers at Glen- 
mere ; but a summer friend is soon forgotten. What is it to 
you, in the life of a court, what a student does?” 

“Dixie, it is the student that interests me. What will 
you do, enter some musty law office and wield a power for 
world liberation ?” 

“You digress from our standards. You encouraged me to 
fight the battles of the standards, and now you laugh at my 
hoped-for efforts. Where shall one find faith on the earth 
if one's friends fail in the hour of need?” 

“Ah! Dixie, it is the woman in the home that we men 
need. We fight together these world battles. The love of 
a woman unshackles man. You will weary of the fight. 
The armor will be worn with many a scar. The rich bloom 
will die from your cheek. Better give it up, little girl,” said 
her deeply-interested friend. 

His face was filled with pleading. His hot breath swept 
her cheek. What did he mean? He was not her brother, 

95 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


nor even a cousin, but was so used to the world! Was he 
merely enjoying a girl's exuberance, not understanding the 
woman's nature? 

“Ah I is it strange for a girl to have high aspirations and 
you falter in adherence? Does it not mean the exaltation of 
ideals which nations have forgotten? What is it to you, 
unless you, too, take a place amid your nation's manhood, 
where these banners should wave ?" she finished. 

Before the steps was the drag which would take the 
Lord to the station. They climbed up into its rear seat and 
went down the road to the burg. The span under the Earl's 
hand took the bit like roadsters accustomed to travel. In 
a brief hour they reached the brow of the hill and descended 
to the depot. 

“Will you write to me, Dixie? You are so filled with 
congenial response! To keep in touch with you will be 
worth all the world to me. May I write to you ?" he pleaded. 

She lifted an abashed face to him : “Lord Summer, it is a 
high compliment you offer me. Write till you forget me." 

“I shall never forget you. No man could after knowing 
you. Will you allow me to come to America to see you as 
soon as your school closes ?" 

“What life holds for me is problematical. I am not 
schooled in the arts of the world and would make a pitiful 
entertainer," answered Dixie to the request. 

He laughed out loud : “Let men beware when you do make 
your debut ! They will hardly be prepared to encounter so 
sharp a wit or withstand its satire." 

“Do not misinterpret my meaning. My work must be ac- 
complished. It excludes me from taking part in the world's 
intercourse. A purpose must be won; then the doors will 
glide open on silver hinges, and, like a moth, I will scorch 
my wings at your candle." 


96 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The drag had stopped at the station. They clambered 
down the steps and waited on the platform for the train as 
it slowed up. Lord Summer told them good-by. He held 
Dixie's hand as if he were loath to part with her; but with a 
last good-by he lifted his hat and leaped up the railway 
steps, waving a last adieu as the train swished on its way. 

“It is parting from a man that is not a man,” thought 
Dixie, “but from a stock of manhood into a completeness 
which the world has not the pattern of.” She turned away 
with tears in her eyes. The bravery was all gone irom her 
spirit ; and with a lump in her throat she stepped up again 
into the rig by Athenia, and they went slowly back up the 
long road, losing from life the finest man in England. 

It was the turn of the seasons. The quiet woi;k of nature 
made the sea a mass of molten lead. Long waves drifted in 
in huge blocks unrippled. Great clouds imperceptibly 
massed in the sky. Chilly moms, with a fire kindled in the 
great fireplace, filled the drawing-room with cheer. The 
stables were sent back to London, the shrubbery was packed 
close with leaves and hay, the house underwent a dishevel- 
ing, and the last days of Glenmere drew to an end. 

The sea began pounding against the white cliffs, and Dixie 
knew what Duroc meant when he said that the Norsemen 
both hate and love the sea. She stood by it the last morning 
before they left. Its inner life was perturbed. The Channel 
raged in storming power, yet its very fury appealed and its 
triumph of tossing wave satisfied the restless girl. 

7 97 


VII. 

THE CONTINENT. 


'Tn a week we will go,” the Earl said. *‘We will take 
the northern route. It will give several weeks at Brussels, 
Berlin, and the Rhine country. It will be insufficient, 
though, for the girls' studies, for it is a museum of mechan- 
ism of wonderful interest. Its powerful commercial life will 
arouse every fiber of our American girls' souls. It is whole- 
some, energetic in social life, and its literature rich far be- 
yond our own land. Her noted musicians have given her 
an ascendancy unparalleled. It is all to the student to live 
among these world workmen and imbibe the spirit of their 
industiy." 

“Yes," said the Countess, “and we know more. We get 
our laces and lingerie at half price if we do the shopping. 
We buy our Brussels carpets, too, for a third. It is the 
shopping market of the earth." 

They crossed the tempestuous Channel and landed at Ant- 
werp. Several hours would elapse before the train would 
start for Brussels. The Earl ordered a vehicle to take them 
to see the cathedral where Rubens's masterpiece was. It was 
open, and with much courtesy the attendant ushered them 
through its capacious amphitheater and showed them the 
paintings which were Rubens's. His masterpiece, “The 
Descent from the Cross," was marvelous to the girls as they 
stood and gazed at it. The Gothic edifice was fine, and to 
them it was a satisfactory glimpse of the production of the 
Belgians. 

At Brussels the Earl had engaged, weeks ahead, accom- 
modations at the hotel in the upper portion of the city. It 

98 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


was of palatial proportions and magnificence, opening on a 
public square, splashing with a mammoth fountain set 
around with statues, handsome flower clumps. The white 
macadam streets, glittering with equipages in liveried turn- 
outs — continuously one long line, delighting the girls with 
gay capital life. Every day the troops held a review. The 
King was often seen at the time watching the maneuvers. 
The military band played national airs; then the blood in 
Dixie's veins played a tattoo. Her eyes took on the slum- 
bering fire of heroes, and with dilated nostrils she drank her 
portion of heroism in review of the army’s power. 

‘‘Germany presumes to be the greatest military nation on 
earth. Her ‘Iron Chancellor’ is bristling with fortifications. 
But Brussels has her soldiers. Her standing army is over 
fifty thousand, and there is no finer set of men on earth; 
they are as stubborn as a Briton, too,” the Earl said as they 
sat in the inclosure watching the troops. 

“Bernhardt is here, the Reichstag says. Shall we get a 
box for the week?” the Countess asked of the Earl. “The 
girls will never see a finer actress. Her ‘Ruy Bias,’ you re- 
member, Earl, made Paris wild. She is playing ‘Lady Mac- 
beth’ and ‘Cleopatra.’ Do you wish to see her, my dears ?” 

“It would fill my imperial soul to satiety to see Bernhardt ; 
for the one star in ascendancy makes us all star gazers, and 
I am not the most modest of the crowd,” said the imperish- 
able Dixie of spirits. 

“Settled, my Lord; get the box,” sallied in Athenia. “I, 
too, would obtain a view of this queen of the stage. Shall 
we dress in evening toilettes. Countess, and pile our pompa- 
dours in regal style?” 

“The court of queens demands conformatory lines. We 
do as Rome does and save our heads a decapitation. Yes ; 
we must have a box, Earl.” 


99 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Days of sight-seeing and nights at the Royal Theater, gaz- 
ing their eyes out at tragedy's queen, elated the party. A 
drama of the nation's commercial interests dominated. 

The Countess said : ‘‘It is the most opportime time for the 
girls' visit. The city was never more attractive. It is full 
to the limit if we accomplish our desire.” 

“We can incorporate it if neither breath nor body is con- 
sidered; but save one day for the battle ground of Water- 
loo. Dixie will never forgive us if we neglect it,” said the 
kind Earl. 

A morning visit to the ancient Hotel de Ville, sitting back 
from a beautiful public square, was interesting because of 
its date. Its towers ascended three hundred feet in the air, 
making it a most imposing edifice. Its numerous halls and 
decorations, its lofty ceilings and rich furnishings of days 
past offered to them a study in antique Belgian life. The 
service of the elaborate dining hall was also so much in 
keeping with the surroundings that it satisfied these world 
ramblers. St. Gudule Church, too, fell in line with the 
conforming taste. Its richly-adorned interior of sculpture, 
altar pieces, and painting left their impressions. The re- 
markable pulpit and specimens of stained glass awed. The 
Palace of Fine Arts, combining a museum, library, and art 
gallery, was an innovation. They spent hours here obtain- 
ing the knowledge of the hearts and industries of the people. 
The gallery was hung with masterpieces. Here were Ru- 
bens's, Teniers's, and the world-known Vandyke's. These 
sent to top notch the spirits of the girls, who then used dili- 
gently their notebooks to take impressions of the masters’ 
work. Their birthplace enriched the little country, making 
it enviable among the art centers of Northern Europe. 

Belgium's reputation led the north country in commerce 
and foreign trade for years. Her manufactories delighted 
loo 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the students. Lace-making was fully investigated, and the 
ladies were loath to leave the looms of wondrous machinery. 
Silk and leather goods had for them a particular fascina- 
tion. The more pretentious rrietal work was the art. Years 
of investigation would hardly suffice. The universities took 
part of their time, and the art schools revealed the national 
character in hand and brush. The evening was given up 
wholly to driving, the many noted places attracting unusual 
attention. 

At the Palace Royal they saw the colossal monument of 
Godfrey of Bouillon. A memorial had been erected to the 
fallen in the revolution of 1830, by which the Belgians had 
gained independence. To properly convey the struggle made 
in that fierce conflict, this was named the “Palace of Mar- 
tyrs.'' Belgium has often served as the battle ground of the 
nations. The most modem battle of world renown was 
fought on the field of Brabant. 

The Earl took them to see the battle ground of Welling- 
ton, who said on seeing the mammoth iron lion on the ex- 
panse they had raised to properly place the monument of the 
nations : “You have spoiled my battle ground." 

“But it took Continental Europe to overthrow Napoleon," 
Dixie said. 

“From this intrepid man sprang the republic of France. 
To see his place of sepulture is my crowning desire. France 
has raised his name higher on her escutcheon than any 
sculpture can give of his defeat," Athenia said. 

They were then at the top of the iron lion and looked over 
the site of the battle of Waterloo, necessarily a world can- 
vas. 

The shops of Brussels delighted them more than anything. 
They were crowded all day long. They took the early hours 
to shop for its enticing laces. 

lOI 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“I would wear lace dresses all day long if I lived in Brus- 
sels. The cheapness is astonishing. A queen's purse would 
be needed at home," said Athenia. 

“Why does our Southland stand it? We can make lace at 
home. It is only getting at it. It is a shame to cross the 
waters for every piece of lace a woman needs. We must 
have a second discovery, I think," said Dixie. 

“It is no more probable than a Rubens or Vandyke. It 
is a master trade not easily learned," said the Countess. 

“We can make anything there; this is a case of purchase. 
You buy our heiresses with a castle; we will buy your lace 
and carpet weavers with our gold and make our country as 
famous with Old-World art. We can keep our heiresses at 
home to go in business, then, and retain, too, the peculiar ac- 
quiring instincts," said Athenia. 

“Good for Athenia! Are you going into the importing 
business? They are on a tour of inspection. Whatever 
their great, broad lands lack they will arrange for. Trade 
will be booming when this is reported," the Earl said, laugh- 
ing. 

“On the morrow we enter the heart of Germany. To see 
Berlin is a lifelong wish," said Dixie. 

They were seated at the table the last evening in Brussels 
when the Earl said : “I have a great disappointment for you, 
girls. A tourist told me in the smoker that the snow was 
already falling on the Alps, and that if we made it this year 
we had better hasten or forego. Which shall it be?" 

“And lose sight of the land of bristling Von Moltke? His 
fortified Germany was all to me. Shall I not cross the bor- 
ders of his empire ?" moaned Dixie. 

“And I feel like saying what Luther said : T am going if 
there are as many devils of opposition as there are shingles 
on the roofs of the buildings.' The great nation stirs me to 


102 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the depths. Its commercial power is demanded for us to 
familiarize ourselves with. The porcelain of Meissen claims 
my enthusiasm; also the glass of Silesia and Bavaria. The 
clock manufactories I expected to consume several days. 
Its wood-carving is a special industry, as well as its jewelry 
works at Munich. We will return novitiates,” said the 
broken-hearted Athenia. 

“Which shall you prefer to do, see the nation of Germany 
or forego the Alps ?” the Earl asked. 

“We cannot possibly yield the Alps. To see Matterhorn 
has been a lifelong desire. And to leave out Mont Blanc 
one has not seen Europe. One gives up everything to see 
these sublime sights. Forget my petulancy. A child craves 
all sweets,” said the apologetic Dixie. 

“That is so prettily said, my child ! You obtain my for- 
giveness without a thought of pain. It is for you that we 
plan; and it hurts me to forego the Fatherland, where our 
own kinsman, Jean Paul Richter, was one of the lights of 
literature.” 

“We can make the chief places as we go down the Rhine 
on our way, can we not, Earl ?” asked his wife. 

“Yes, I suppose we can crowd in several of the noted 
places while waiting for trains. Sometimes almost a day 
intervenes. At Cologne we will remain a day ; and Heidel- 
berg, of course, Dixie must see. We take the six-ten train 
in the morning. Good night.” 


103 


VIII. 

COLOGNE. 


Cologne is beautiful for situation, lying in a half moon, 
surrounded by the Ringstrass, a sixty-foot boulevard, a most 
beautiful drive. This is the city which, as every belle and 
beau knows, is noted for the manufacture of its dainty per- 
fume, from which it or the city takes its euphonious title. 
The insistent cathedral demands your instant attack. It is 
the first thing in sight as you descend the steps of the rail 
coach. It is so beautiful that it is impossible to keep from 
admiring it. 

“How beautiful!” the girls exclaimed in one breath. 
“What distinction of architecture. Gothic and superb !” 

“Ejaculative,” my dears; “but it is a costly piece; the in- 
terior is as fine,” the Countess said. 

Its outer adornment consisted of innumerable peaks and 
minarets. Exquisite heads were carved about the doors, 
making a matchless ornamentation. 

“Its interior decoration is far more elaborate. Its chancel- 
rail and altar-piece decorations are more ornate than St. 
Paul’s, don’t you think. Countess ?” asked Dixie. 

“It is a noble pile, very much older than anything we 
have. It dates back to the reign of Charlemagne. It was 
burned early in the twelfth centuiy, but it was not finished 
until last year. It cost ten million dollars to complete it,” 
she answered the girls. 

“Westminster gave some conception of proportion and 
expense, but this great thing is too beautiful to comprehend 
its valuation. To me its teaching is the pride men had in 
erecting to God a worthy edifice. To-day our conception of 

104 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


worship is contracted. My problem is, whether it is stone 
or the soul,” said Dixie. 

“The scale of life was greater of soul then than now. I 
think the people loftier in living, loftier in conception; the 
marbles of Phidias reveal this. But it was not confined to 
nations. The breadth of soul made men of more divine in- 
spiration. The Greek school has never been duplicated. 
They went down into Alexandria with art and taught the 
Egyptians. Gaul was inspired from the same school. Man 
was then the God-created hand alive with his image,” con- 
cluded the Countess. 

It was a feast of travel to view the ancient construction 
of church buildings of solid masonry standing the test of 
time — Gothic, Romanesque, and Transition — each vying with 
the other in attractiveness. The forts were a great part of 
this sight-seeing. Every few lengths these heavily-garri- 
soned forts bulged cannon in readiness for the city’s defense. 
Its manufactures were a component part of its history and 
its claims of commercial standing. Its desirability as a 
residence was attractive; for yonder ran through the land 
the river Rhine, alive with romance and scenery. 

The afternoon closed with a drive about a part of the 
Ringstrass, and the next morning they took a steamer down 
the Rhine. 

“Listrene has chemically lubricated this river. Countess. 
Such a brilliant body of water was never known,” said 
Athenia. 

“It is wondrous. But look at the scenery ! Where have 
you ever seen such green ? It is a new shade your eyes have 
never seen. And the mountains are marvelous, arising from 
the brink to a high altitude,” she replied. 

Through the loveliness crept a village on the side of the 
mountain every little while. Up on the side of the hill, where 

105 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


a goat could not keep its footing, hung the vinedresser. In 
this paradise of nature women in red woolen dresses, with 
shawls tied over their heads, carried large baskets. The boat 
stopped every little while to bundle on these contortions of 
Eden. But on down the blue Rhine floated the steamer. On 
the crests of mountains gleamed castles sitting on wondrous 
high pinnacles. Dixie looked at the Countess to learn the 
means of access to the supreme. 

“Art of the Egyptians, perhaps — the way they built the 
Pyramids. Truthfully, some long, tortuous way, of course. 
There are no elevators on the Rhine, nor aeroplanes of do- 
mestic use, or I should think they floated.” 

On down the beautiful Rhine they traveled. The second 
day the precipitous rocks began. 

“Rocks of Lorelei, the ‘Mouse Tower* which Longfellow 
immortalized,” the Earl recited to them, which, in the poet*s 
song, was musical and sweet. 

As they sat traveling in the coach in far-away Germany, 
Athenia repeated to Dixie the song of the Fatherland, “Bing- 
en on the Rhine,** the soldiers* requiem in Algiers. 

The rugged cliffs became towering at this point and were 
now surpassingly grand. The Earl told them of many a leg- 
end of the Rhine as they swept on down. 

They left the boat at last and, taking the train for Heidel- 
berg, sped on through the land. The crest of every hill 
seemed crowned with a castle built in feudal days. Dixie 
ran her eye along the car at every stop to see if she could 
find a baron. 

“You can see them at Berlin in the winter season. Then 
one can understand the mighty power of this nation. When 
you return we will come over for the winter season and find 
you and Athenia an ogre,** said the Earl. 

io6 


IX. 

HEIDELBERG, GENEVA, AND THE ALPS. 

From the appearance, the dinginess was very uninviting. 
The party were given entrance to several rooms in the vast 
pile. The classrooms were plain, bare floors, fitted with 
old weather-worn desks badly mutilated by the classical 
students of its time. The rooms were small and mean in 
appearance. Dixie was deeply mortified by the appearance 
of this school, whence her professor had come to them in the 
Southland — a. German, too, of distinguished ability, bearing 
the reputation of German Heidelberg, which scored such 
honor in the South. 

The schoolgirl looked at the rude benches, exclaiming: 
“Earl, what can it mean that this famed university is of 
such mean furnishings, such small classrooms, and so bare 

“Fame laid her hand on the desks. This school dates back 
to the days of Rupert. Many a king and lord imbibed all 
the learning of those days. Come into the library. There is 
one of the handsomest libraries in the world.’’ 

The Earl conducted them into the library, and they caught 
an unimportant scope of its illustrious manuscripts and an 
enormous number of volumes. The art gallery and labora- 
tories were all interesting as being world-famed for modem 
investigation. The directory furnished many illustrious 
American names and many national names of Europe. 

Overlooking the city rose the most stupendous castle in 
Germany, a ponderous piece of masonry of red brick. The 
climb was dexterous. They entered a door and climbed to 
the numerous corridors and apartments. The tower over- 

107 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


looked the Necker and the surrounding country. They then 
descended to the cellar, where the famous ton held fifty 
thousand gallons of wine, which this castle had the commer- 
cial venture to own the fame of making and thereby ob- 
taining enormous wealth. The great castle was in a poor 
state of preservation, but every care was given to retain it. 
It is the greatest castle of the empire. 

When they reentered the coach for Geneva on the next 
booking, they rode on through a land each mile of which 
seemed to become denser with a dark growth of trees. Dixie 
mused that it was some mineral composition which affected 
the trees in this way. She kept her eyes fastened on the 
strange condition. The Earl watched her intently, but at last 
she raised her eyes to him. 

“This is the Black Forest of Germany,’’ he said in answer 
to an interrogation. 

Black-Forest romance tugged at Dixie’s heart. Memory’s 
charmed door unsealed childhood’s literature ; and barons, 
knights, ogres of the Black Forest, and beautiful princesses 
trooped down the vista, but closed off childhood’s legend- 
ary past ; strong stone castles in far bound-up forests through 
concealed pathways, and giants and dwarfs combating at 
every step — ^how many favorites had been carried away into 
the Black Forests 1 And the white knight with the white 
plume, who spent years in rescue, came gliding through the 
portals of the story. 

There was her knight of the golden shield, whom she al- 
ways expected to come for her after she had learned to 
weave the cloth of gold to stand on. She was weaving it 
now — if a knight should come after she had finished her 
cloth of gold ! 

“Watch for the prince, Athenia,” Dixie reminded her. 

“I am watching. I believe he is behind yon waterfall,” 
io8 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


she answered, pointing to a crystal fall of water which fell 
gurgling down into the forest’s dells somewhere. 

The train whirled on through the mysterious forest, lend- 
ing a weirdness to the ride which was ogreish. Any one 
could feel creeping through his being a stagy feeling. The 
experience was satisfactory, anyway. But the swiftly-fleet- 
ing train was now taking them away up into another country. 
It was ascending cliffs, dodging through tunnels, and flying 
on the very edge of precipices. The scenery became very 
magnificent and stupendous, too far-reaching for human ap- 
preciation. They were reaching the land of the gods they 
worshiped, exalted. 

The morning broke on a cliff world. The slanting sun- 
beams heralded a day bom in cloudland. Material objects 
lived not in this land of high hemispheres. The shimmering 
lake shook as if a volcano lay beneath its feet. They craned 
their necks outside the window of their sleeping apartment. 
It was Geneva. 

They had breakfast at the hotel. Having to catch the train 
at ten o’clock, they had but a few hours to get a human 
balance. They stepped out on the veranda of the hotel, 
where the Lake of Geneva lay before them. 

“The vibrant air is inspiration. The regality of nature 
spread here takes all the dross from the being. I have 
reached the lands of the gods,” Dixie remarked. 

“And, added to the throbbing of older blood, it is worth 
a world cruise to view what we do here. What makes the 
lake quiver?” Athenia asked the Earl. 

“It is a contribution to science; the oddest one, too. It 
jumps up at one end every ten minutes.” 

“What is the cause, Earl ?” she asked. 

“It is caused by the difference of air pressure on different 
parts of the lake. It is over one thousand feet deep. The 

109 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Rhone enters black now ; when it flows past the city here it 
is cerulean blue and as clear as glass, as you see.” 

“The spot is classical, girls. Lord Byron wrote his 'Pris- 
oner o£ Chillon’ on the northern part of this lake, and Rous- 
seau also gave some of his most beautiful contributions to 
literature from the same spot,” interposed the Countess. 

“To the south are the hills of Savoy.” The Earl showed 
them the ridge lying far to the south. 

“If we could take with us the mirrored lake of reflection 
in vision as it is cast here and as beautiful, it would be 
enough for retrospection,” said Dixie. 

The train took them to Chamouni, where they obtained 
guides; and, after hazardous attempts, all tied to several 
expert guides, they reached the sublimity of their endeavor. 

Mont Blanc rose some fifteen thousand feet in the air; and 
its body, the guide said, was over thirty miles long. 

“It is the sight of Europe !” exclaimed Athenia, trans- 
ported beyond anything she had ever seen. 

Down its side ran a glacier, slowly, imperceptibly, and 
eternally. As long as mists fall and moisture congeals, the 
ribboned, corrugated thing will flow down into the valley of 
Chamouni. 

The playground of Europe was deserted except for a few 
stragglers ; but the party were silent worshipers in the cloud- 
environed heights. The autumn sun blazoned from its height 
down in the dizzy expanse, revealing a panorama seen once 
in a lifetime. The far line of distant mountains and peaks 
showed the most famous sight on the world-crowned moun- 
tain. 

Matterhorn, the fiend of the Alps, defiant, lone, and inac- 
cessible, with a stream of worshipers ever at its feet, reared 
its austerity to an altitude of miles. Days were spent gazing 

no 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


at the monster lifting up its jagged proportions of monstros- 
ity, a homage from a perpetual concourse prone at its feet. 

The verandas gave a view satisfying to the less hazardous. 
Its height had never been ascended at the early date of the 
girls" visit, but its cloud-encircled crest was a wondrous sight 
as they sat awed at its ragged tower. They spent days sitting 
before this triumph of nature amid the solitude where Jove 
piled his thunderbolts. Peace-wrought resuscitation fell 
upon overstrained nerves and sensibilities. 


Ill 


X. 

FLORENCE. 


The constructive was necessary, and it lay in the throb- 
bing pulse of commerce, bound by continental lines of rail- 
way. They had obviously foregone these centers of Europe 
to obtain the scenic. Far to the west lay imperial Paris; 
far to the north was Berlin ; away to the far east was Vien- 
na. These cities are peers of continental realms of activity. 
But they were journeying into the charmed picture gallery, 
seductive, enticing, from which one seldom extricates him- 
self. The train was speeding into this haven of forgetful- 
ness; the route bore them to Florence. 

There lay Florence in the mellow sunlight of Italy, pil- 
lowed on the Amo, its historic bridges stored with art, 
strung with the past of Byzantium glory, alive with mem- 
ories of Lorenzo de Medici, and sculptured by Michelan- 
gelo. 

It was early morning when the train entered the city. 
They hastened to a hotel, where their suite had been pre- 
viously engaged. 

“It seems too much of polished servitude for one location, 
so rich a gift as location, creation, and art burnishers,'’ 
Dixie said, lifting her head to the exquisite decoration which 
at every place was overladen, 

“It vies with Athens, my dear," said Athenia. “A simi- 
lar condition existed during the day of Pericles, yet the latter 
city received still more pretentious ornamentation. Our eyes 
are soul-inspired now with the baptism sublime of the Alps." 

“Ah ! its palaces have the antique air, as our own Irving 
said of Granada." They lifted their eyes as the way wended 
through sacred passages. 


II2 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


'‘Her art-lined streets seem to be the aisles of some great 
and continuous cathedral we have come to worship in,” con- 
tinued the entranced Dixie. 

“The Church of St. Croce will be the first to do, Earl. It 
is valued as the best of Giotto^s frescoes, and Dante’s sculp- 
ture is there by him,” the Countess impressed her husband 
with. 

Giotto had' so embellished the St. Croce that it was called 
by the illustrious name, “Florentine Pantheon.” The ex- 
quisite frescoes were more elaborate than mind conceived. 
It looked like art decorated in its intrinsic beauty of sculp- 
ture. 

A panel of Dante was inset in the frescoes. Among the 
statues also was his sculpture, with Machiavelli, Michelan- 
gelo, and Galileo. Here were the tombs of these polishers of 
Florence, merely the embers of men who threw into its fur- 
nace fires of adornment imperishable lives. It was enough 
for the girls to become part of the endless caravan laying 
wreaths on these tombs of the makers of Florence. 

The castle of Palazzo, the ancient palace which formed 
the Capitol, was the residence of the Medici. Most impor- 
tant events were connected with its history. The lofty tower 
imprisoned Savonarola before he was put to death — an 
apartment vacant except for the statue of this man; yet 
powerfully does it impress in its lifelike spirit, as if his 
soul personated the stone with existence. Speaking from 
deep intensity of eyes, lips parted as if pouring out words, 
head bent forward visibly; one hand rests upon the head 
of a lion, while the other holds a crucifix on high. The 
sculpture exalts art into a martyr’s attitude of burning 
speech. This perfection was unrealized in art until you 
reached it in the triumph of this statue of Girolomo’s. 

Speech forsook the girls when the Earl, without a word, 
8 113 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


suddenly ushered them into the room. They turned their 
eyes to him in astonishment, asking: “Has stone spoken at 
last?” 

“After lunch I shall take you to the immortal Uffizi. It is 
said to contain more perfect work than all the galleries of 
Europe,” said the Earl. 

“And,” continued the Countess, “the receptacle was first 
ornamented by Michelangelo to receive the. masterpieces. 
It is the most ornately-decorated gallery, revealing the place 
that Florence demanded to enshroud her art.” 

The sculptures first drew their attention in the galleries. 
“The Wrestler” was the world-known piece, as perfect as 
life. The “Dancing Faun” was as artistic and beautiful as 
the sculptures of the gallery revealed. The “Niobe” room 
held nothing but this one perfect piece, matchless in carved 
marble; innumerable copies were also in the room, yet but 
one perfect “Niobe.” 

Tribune room was entering the precincts of Raphael, Cor- 
reggio, and Michelangelo. One by the latter directly at- 
tracted attention. “Nativity” and Corregio's “Virgin Ador- 
ing Her Child” were very beautiful. 

“Santa Lucia,” an upturned face by Carl Dulci; “Annun- 
ciation,” by Da Vinci ; and Raphael's “La Fornarina,” in the 
soft tints of his artistic brush, spoke out the living canvas 
seemingly. “St. John of the Desert” was the strong face of 
the young follower of Christ. 

Titian and Rubens here had masterpieces. But the party 
had gone through a passage, and Dixie hurried on. The 
passage was lined, too, with paintings of kings and queens. 
But she tarried only to notice one exquisite Cleopatra and 
one of the Medici. She found the Earl and Countess, with 
Athenia, standing before a Murillo, “Mother and Child.” 

1 14 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The brush of this master gave a softened touch incompa- 
rable. 

The one canvas which follows you with eyes for days is 
*‘Magdalen."' Its deep sadness speaks from eyes of human 
expression, naturally a Titian. 

They stood looking at the beautiful canvas. Its sadness 
followed, as lifelike as a human canvas ; and sorrow embod- 
ied it, not joy. But the human heart never holds it long 
enough to speak as sadness does. The balances are human. 

*Ah, a ‘Cleopatra' by Reni ! How startlingly beautiful !” 
exclaimed Athenia. “It is a matchless canvas." 

But the Earl said : “Here is the canvas, girls ; here is the 
finest thing in art." 

His gaze was directed toward a canvas swinging in a 
heavy gold frame, “Madonna della Sedia," Raphael’s incom- 
parable picture in Florence. The galleries contain twenty- 
three rooms, each room decorated in an embellishment equal- 
ly artistic. Art impregnated the Florentines. Where all 
nature teaches the artistic, these makers of Florence copied. 
It is a cameo, cerulean, enviable, the copy of a world undec- 
orated, alive with possibilities. The tourists of the globe 
tread with impious feet over its painted threshold and gaze 
with eyeglass at its frescoes. “By gad, it sure is fine !" and 
go back to the Western world and brag of their globe trot, 
and such it was. What adornment have they made to their 
own land, with its long sunburned streets and unplanted 
trees, unsculptured fountains, or art square which so beauti- 
fied Florence? Even Brussels had done her imperishable 
honor in thus strewing these crystal fountains over her 
proud city in bronze and stone; but there in Florence was 
the city of artists, directed by Michelangelo. Her art gal- 
leries spanned her Arno. Her palace of paintings were in 
embellished galleries, a true setting of artists and sculptors. 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Every place of books, church and public building, was alive 
with her history. Her squares were still art galleries in 
sculpture: Dante's figure rose on the square of St. Croce; 
the square of Maria Novella was graced by two marble obe- 
lisks; the square of Signoria the public assembled, Mer- 
cato Vechio, where they traded — all surpassingly beautiful. 

“The girls will never be contented until we see some of 
the important manufactories ; see what makes and sustains 
a commercial center. Art is not alone satisfactory; what 
will develop it and continue its development? Let us take 
the girls to the Royal Mosaic Factory. It began in 1574 
making sculptures, alabaster, serpentine, wood-carving, 
stained glass, porcelain, and pottery," said the Countess. 

It was the most marvelous visit of their itinerary to any 
manufactory. Copious notes were drawn from the art so 
intrinsic for the day of opportunity. Their own land was 
merely laid out by the surveyor; also the streets, houses, 
few stone and brick structures to locate the few inhabitants. 
But this ornamentation must be copied, and Florence was 
the pattern. And this was consequently her production, 
that her visitors should see by the samples of her construc- 
tion what was needed to make a city. This industry was 
naturally covering Europe. The more pretentious cities of 
New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington had felt 
it necessary to adorn their few squares with a bust or two 
on a level stone block called a pedestal — sometimes a whole 
colossal statue, like Lee, lately placed in the Capitol. 

But the South and West in uncrowned prairies forgot 
what made a city when they came home from the charmed 
place, and spent all of the money needed to make these re- 
pairs and cursed the poor town which could not erect a 
monument to the name of the Indian brave from which the 
city derived its name. It seemingly would have graced the 
1 16 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Statehouse square or hid, like the soldiers’ monument near 
the beautiful Capitol they thought to build. 

'‘We will find you Michelangelo’s ‘David.’ It is the finest 
sculpture in existence.” 

They were away scrutinizing the ancient residence of 
Dante, in the place of St. Martin’s, kept through all the 
years in a state of preservation; once an exile that 

“Begged through seven cities bread, 

Now honored by his city, dead.” 

“Dante came from the past and added his presence to the 
long array of lives offered on her altars. Boccaccio called 
him ‘that singular splendor of the Italian race.’ He made 
the classical beauty of the literature then unformed. No 
one work gave so much to the world as his ‘Divine Comedy,’ 
giving rise to much of Italy’s polished literature. And, 
again, it beckoned to the Florentine school of painting, as 
he was the most polished lover of the artistic school. Again, 
he attracted musicians by his delight in this school,” the Earl 
said. 

In the Academy of Fine Arts they found the indescrib- 
able sculpture standing upon a pedestal lifting young man- 
hood into a symmetrical figure of marble beauty and com- 
manding manhood. The figure was colossal and exquisitely 
formed. The matchless head, with a face of almost living 
beauty, was seemingly human, speaking from living stone 
under the sculptured hand of art. They stood, too full of 
the beauty to speak, and at last wended their way onward 
through the Academy. 

Much that was rare, ornamental, and revealing all of the 
Florentine life massed in intricate order of study, found 
students open-eyed, thirsty at the fountain of need, cram- 

117 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


tning for the future. They were emissaries at the foot of 
the polished stones of Florence. 

When they had returned to their suite, a card was brought 
up for the Misses Rochester — “Basil Marmaduke.'' 

Athenia was out driving with the party. Dixie had re- 
mained because of a slight indisposition, writing letters home 
and also answering one from Lord Summer. She hastily 
went down to the parlors to receive the guest, glad to meet 
some one from home. 

Dixie was mastering French and was studying German; 
but the beautiful Italian was not yet her valued possession, 
so she made no communication with the guests of the hotel 
and remained alohe, unless the Earl and his wife, who were 
acquainted with the language and made travel for them a 
pleasure, were present. 

She glided across, he meeting her in the center of the 
room, saying: “We saw your names in the Reichstag at 
Baden-Baden, where we were taking the waters, and ran 
down to see you in incomparable Florence.” 

“What a surprise! We hardly expected to meet you be- 
fore we reached Rome, but it is good of you to join our 
party. We are art-isolated in classical Florence. Did you 
not find it so ?” she queried. 

“At first; but now it is as much my home as is the West- 
ern city. Its art-lined streets make it an enviable abode,” 
he replied. 

“It tempts with its beauty. The association makes one 
desire to live ever amid her gardens and galleries and art- 
decked palaces,” said the student. 

“Has your love of art been gratified with the contribution 
of such a master as Michelangelo? The Pitti Gallery alone 
is a cameo, and the cathedral is one immortal pile of pol- 
ished stone.” 


ii8 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


‘*Lack of artistic conception deters the expression of 
an opinion of the old masters. It is too sublime a reach for 
a student's mind. Years will be given to forming an opinion 
of the periods which constructed the incomparable. It is a 
colossal conception, and it takes a lifetime of deduction to 
reach the height of such power as is here incorporated/' an- 
swered the girl, bewildered with beauty surpassing all hu- 
man visions. 

“You have not yet reached the cathedral; have you met 
with anything equal to it in London or on the Continent?" 
he continued. 

“It is a future delight. We have not reached its sacred 
environs. To-morrow we will do it, the Baptistery, and 
Giotto's Tower," she said in answer. 

“How grateful I am! I may also join the party, may I 
not, and enjoy with you the pleasure of the finest cathedral 
you have yet seen here in the land of artists and sculptors 
who made the city so beautiful ?" 

“Indeed, the enjoyment will be greatly enhanced by having 
congenial society, you especially, who know the ‘stones of its 
pavements' so well. We visited the pension of Anthony 
Trollop. It is strange that the Brownings parted forever 
from England. I am like Carlos Migruil. ‘My country, 
my country is first with me.' It is well to imbibe the for- 
eign beauty; but it is the copy, the copy, to reprint it as 
one master does another greater, until all the world is art- 
lined." 

“You enchant me, little Dixie, with your naive remarks ; 
but, my quaint Dixie, it comes from a cultured soul. Even- 
tually you will polish your beloved land with the copy of 
the Old World," said the charmed Marmaduke. 

“If I could, Mr. Marmaduke — if I could, the work of a 
woman would be accomplished — a work of an American 

1 19 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


lover of the artistic/* Her eyes sparkled, filled with glow- 
ing light. 

They talked on through the long afternoon. The party 
found them sitting on the portico when they came home, the 
hotel being rather close at that time of the year. 

The acme of ancient buildings had yet to be visited. Now 
that Marmaduke had joined the party, sight-seeing added 
vigor. They wended their way to the cathedral. Its im- 
mense proportions were realized only after entering the 
place. The ornate interior surpassed all others with the 
exquisite altars and the glorious height of its dome. 
Michelangelo copied it when he designed St. Peter*s at 
Rome, and his sculptures formed a valued portion of its 
decoration. Luca della Robbia’s singing angels were the 
triumph of the cathedral. The sculptures and paintings by 
Cimabue, Giotto, and, as stated, Michelangelo, made a won- 
drous harmony of ideal conception which these new aesthetic 
art connoisseurs felt able to criticize. 

The doors of the Baptistery were the subject of the most 
interest and closest inspection. The wondrous achievement 
was delicate in execution. It required forty years to com- 
plete the exquisite panels by Ghiberti. The cathedral was 
begun in 1200. Can one wonder at the completeness, each 
century offering some master to contribute his talent to the 
finishing?” said Marmaduke. 

“It was Medici that aroused the power of his day to ulti- 
mate creation. His vigorous mercantile nature and love 
of art crowned his city with embellishment. This patron of 
art called Michelangelo to the reach of his divine calling. 
These two finished the adornment of Florence,” said Dixie, 
turning her eyes directly on Marmaduke. 

“Giotto, Cimabue, and Michelangelo! The Campanile 
and the vivid bas-reliefs which adorn its base are Giotto’s 


120 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


masterpieces. It is now called ‘Giotto's Tower.' His fres- 
coes in the Arena Chapel at Padua comprise thirty-eight 
subjects, the highest of his skill. I presume you visited 
Santa Croce. There he excels all his contributions to art,” 
said Marmaduke in response. 

“Art had languished. Michelangelo was brought into the 
foreground of art by entering a gate a merchant prince had 
left open to his gardens filled with statues. Michelangelo 
took his brush and palette into these beautiful gardens to 
copy a ‘Laughing Faun.' It so pleased the merchant prince 
that he took the boy into his own house, treating him like a 
son. This work was in the Sistine Chapel. It was covered 
in twenty months by his famous frescoes, and he painted 
there the ‘Last Judgment.' His hand contributed to the fin- 
ishing of Florence in art, sculpture, and painting,” insisted 
Dixie, a lover of Michelangelo. 

“Lorenzo de Medici ! The world bows to do this merchant 
prince honor. He concluded the polishing of its art stones. 
Here Byron tarried at its altars, worshiping in its classic 
isles, lifting up his own heart for baptism. Here came 
Keats and paid devoirs. Shelley, too, laid here an immortal 
wreath. The Brownings stayed beside the Arno and inter- 
wove the muse, enthralled with the medieval. They loitered 
days beside the cradle of the Renaissance, reaching for the 
enshrined past, jeweled in its mosaic,'' the Earl added. 

In the gardens of Florence they strayed to Boboli — ^gar- 
dens of magnificent ornamentation, laid out with numer- 
ous fine art pieces, winding ways where white alabaster 
sculptures gleamed amid the dense green, and great palms 
of opulent development made a climax of decoration. The 
girls became entangled again in meshes of extravagance of 
exclamation. 

“Shaw's Garden, of St. Louis, was the delight of my life; 


I2I 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


but the superb gardens of Florence outvie all ideals for me 
to conceive. It is surpassingly beautiful/' said Dixie. 

“Miss Rochester, are you going to make your home in 
Florence, as the Brownings did?” queried Marmaduke, re- 
membering the conversation of the previous day. 

“If I could, I would strike tent right here; no farther 
would I roam. It is paradise,” returned the enchanted girl. 

“Medici focused all eyes on Florence. It was the astute- 
ness of a commercial merchant prince. It attracts the hom- 
age of the world. Her sight-seers supply a colossal income,” 
knowingly remarked Marmaduke. 

Dixie was so aroused by this exclamation that she ea- 
gerly extended her hand in commendation, and the Earl 
said : “That is all she cared to hear. These two girls are self- 
constituted emissaries for their nation. Every unsupplied 
need in the homeland they jot down in ‘Notes.' They even 
have been, investigating the manufactures, finding what 
maintains each flourishing city. If you drop in line, the 
work is accomplished,” he said to Marmaduke. 

“That was all I heard on the ship — ^this wondrous need of 
manhood in the day of power in America. Her ideal is 
realized here in Florence.” 

122 


XI. 

VENICE. 


To reach Rome by Christmas they hurried on in their 
tour of Italy. The next en route was Venice. 

With Marmaduke added to their number, their party was 
gayer and more interesting in companionship. He was well 
informed on the Old World and was an interesting conver- 
sationalist. He was also a fine linguist, having picked up 
most every language on the Continent, even Slavic, and con- 
versed fluently with several travelers he met on the coach. 
Dixie was interested. His ease of manner was ideal, and 
his knowledge of men and matters kindled a strong feeling. 
Instead of being distant, as at first, she now rather met his 
advances, and between them began a comradeship which 
drifted day by day into a mutual liking. 

The cloud of sadness seemed wholly to have disappeared. 
His geniality created an enviable atmosphere. She was glad 
to show the Earl and Countess an American. 

The "‘City of the Sea*’ was reached in the early evening. 
The red-and-blue coloring from its marble palaces reflected 
in the Adriatic, weaving a mesh of enchantment about the 
historic. A long waterway was crossed before the depot 
was reached. Here the crying of gondoliers in indescrib- 
able language mixed up the medley of sound to an infinite 
degree. The Earl accepted a gondola, a large black one, 
and the party was landed at the hotel from the boat the 
same as if a carriage had conveyed them to their destination. 
The hotel opened on the Rialto, the renowned street, where 
glittering shops made the narrow but brilliant street a much- 
used boulevard for sight-seeing. 

123 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


It was Venice. Dixie rested, knowing that she had 
reached the key of romance. The barred doors were hung 
on golden hinges. Now she would do Venice to the bitter 
end, until strength and effort accomplished her desire. 

“Early to bed and early to rise,” the party separated after 
partaking of a repast which was far from enviable. But the 
girls jotted down not an item along this line. They were not 
cormorants of food supplies. It was totally art — mosaics, 
sculpture, painting, galleries, and cathedrals. 

They met on the plaza of St. Mark's. The doves were 
winging their way down to the stone expanse, fluttering 
white wings about the heads of Venetians and feeding out 
of their hands — a beautiful sight of Venice. 

The plaza yielded three distinct periods to the tourists 
at one view, nowhere else so promimently visible in the 
Italian cities so far seen: St. Mark's Byzantium, Doge's 
Palace of the Gothic, and the Procuratie, the style of the 
Renaissance. They entered the cathedral. 

“The cathedral is named for St. Mark. His body was 
brought from Alexandria in 828 A.D.,'' said Marmaduke to 
the party. 

“Remarkable history is interwoven with everything in 
these ancient cities. The age v/as wonderful in clothing the 
intrinsic in imperishable marble. A tomb was to have a 
fitting receptacle in Florence, and Michelangelo built a ca- 
thedral. Their lines were colossal. It should be reproduced 
again. It would make a fine sinking fund for aesthetic mil- 
lionaires,'' the Earl said. 

“They have a habit of importing to more favored shores 
what they envy of the classic over here. It was well when 
Austria restored to Venice her sculptures which Napoleon 
stole from her sanctuaries. It is degradation immeasurable 
124 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


thus to subject an enemy. A nation’s art is fame, and it 
should be retained as historic,” answered Marmaduke. 

The great church stretched away into alcoves filled with 
statuary. The vaulted dome was lighted with wondrous 
cathedral glass, and huge pillars lifted it aloft from the cen- 
ter. The embellishment of the interior was in mosaic gold 
groundwork. The chancel rail, or screen, was jeweled in 
rare gems. The nave was represented with David, Solomon, 
and the prophets; the Ascension was also pictured here. 
The many bronze altar pieces and other objects dated from 
past centuries. All the morning was needed to examine the 
immense beautiful pile. At last, wearied with exclamations 
of intrinsic beauty, they sat down on the pillars’ seats cir- 
cling about the base. Incense was wafted from the alcove. 
A marriage party had entered and filed down to the altar. 
The chanting of the droning pi^iest reading the Latin cere- 
mony in muffled tones at that distance indistinctly reached 
them. 

^‘Is there anything you wish added to this jeweled mosaic, 
Dixie?” asked Marmaduke. 

"'It is a jeweled trophy of medieval history. Its uneven 
stones attest that the votaries were myriads. Rich is he who 
enters here to revel in its past. It is clearly defined by the 
evidence of master hands,” replied the girl, deeply impressed 
by the age of Old-World work. 

"‘Our America was discovered for man to make a new 
Eden of. He is expected to bring the scientific to its height. 
Stephenson is building railways ; Edison is linking electricity 
to sound ; Marconi is using the waves of the air to transfer 
sound; Fulton sent steam into the boats and steamships to 
track the trackless with. Each need has been met as prog- 
ress demanded. It is a scientific deduction,” said Marma- 
duke. 


125 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


‘'O modern sage! Did Huxley plan your creation in the 
hour of our need? Tell me, wise man of the West, will you 
ornament America with the embellishment which these mas- 
ters gave to this city? Shall mythological beauty establish 
her courts in those mighty empires arising in the Western 
world? Shall Michelangelo, Titian, Murillo, and Giotto 
be born to ornament the stone structures reared to industry ? 
And shall Lorenzo de Medici live again ?^' asked Dixie. 

“Ah!’’ broke in Athenia, ‘‘Dixie is searching for a Per- 
icles or a Medici. She will contract the ornamentation of 
her beloved country with none but the first masters. You 
have so deep a knowledge of the aesthetic tastes of her long- 
sought ideals that you may be commissioned to embellish the 
land you are familiar with. As the Earl told you, her motive 
among its polished stones is to copy the artistic — Duroc for 
dancing and painting. Lord Summer for elocution and his- 
tory, and you for the adornment. Dixie is arranging to 
polish America,” concluded Athenia. 

“Then is it time to fall in line and surrender to the gods 
my all ?” asked Marmaduke without a smile. 

“It is he who loves much. The rich man, you know, in 
these parables we see so much of went away sad. But 
Dixie's enthusiasm for her beloved country brooks no de- 
feat; it will be accomplished if she has to raise an army to 
demand that her colors fly from the highest pinnacle of her 
attainment,” insisted the much-impressed Athenia with Dix- 
ie’s motive of travel. 

“Woman was meant to inspire. Men let well enough 
alone in this day of easy methods. We love little except our 
personal comfort and tastes. Many of us are defeated be- 
cause we lay up for moths to eat, like the mice did the corn, 
and eventually the tollman. I shall conform to the stand- 
ards of Dixie. They are worthy of acceptance,” he replied. 

126 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


‘‘Agreed, Dixie. Stand witness to his promise, and our 
work abroad is accomplished. We are importing for our 
government,'* replied Athenia, named for the defender of 
Athens. 

But the noon hour was now near; and they arose to follow 
the Earl, who was at the entrance door looking again at the 
bronze lions, presented by Nero, which had ornamented the 
Hippodrome at Constantinople. The bronze sockets, too, 
which held the flagstaffs of Venice formed a part of the 
outer ornamentation. 

“Look!" said the Earl. 

His hand pointed to a bronze figure on top of the near 
building which was striking with a bronze hammer a bronze 
bell. The hour of twelve rang out; and when finished, the 
girls turned away. Marmaduke caught Dixie by the sleeve. 
She turned back. His hand was pointed still toward the 
clock. A woman on the other side had raised a bronze ham- 
mer that she held and struck the hour, too, the same number 
of strokes. The clear bell's sound fell upon ears attuned to 
the resonant past and called for pleased astonishment at the 
subtle ingenuity of the construction. 

“Why should the solons battle longer for supremacy? 
Venice has yielded the pennant ages ago. See her triumph 
of woman on the clock tower! Can agnostic man refuse 
emancipation longer? Ancient days gave equal need of her 
use," said Dixie, quickly seeing into the past of men's minds 
of culture. 

“Strike ! Every man says. Strike ! It is a return to bar- 
barism to pretend ignorance of woman's equality. It is un- 
published and unrealized in the bondage of the uncivilized. 
Man is the child of woman, a Madame de Stael, the more 
noted daughter of Necker, the financier of France. The 

127 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


foreign matter forces conclusions/^ said the modem man 
who desired to join the tourists. 

The after-dinner tour was up the sloping way of the Cam- 
panile; arduously leaning forward until the back was bent 
with the burden, they reached the altitude of a bird’s-eye 
view of Venice. 

The panorama was unparalleled for majesty. The Adri- 
atic swept away to the south, and the white shipping lay 
massed at her environs of the city. The plaza of St. Mark’s 
beneath them seemed inferior. The cathedral aged in enor- 
mous proportions. Many buildings were pointed out to the 
students, but it all gleamed with the setting of water at its 
palace door. 

“Touch the bells, Athenia. We have then touched the 
past. They have rung out the hour of worship for centu- 
ries,” said Dixie. 

That evening had been arranged for a ride on the la- 
goon. They were to “sail down the blue lagoon to the 
sea.” The gondolier engaged had been doing all their jour- 
neys, and he arranged for several musicians to accompany 
them in an additional gondola. So they decided to take the 
remainder of the afternoon to see the palace where Byron 
lived during his long residence in Venice. 

It looked like all the buildings in the time-worn city, un- 
inviting ; but they landed at its entrance and climbed into its 
marble halls. The carved interior was still hung with tapes- 
tries in a fair state of preservation, and the dimmed paint- 
ings and furnishings remained. They went down its corri- 
dors and through its lofty chambers out onto a balcony over- 
hanging the canal. Here the Earl and Marmaduke had sent 
supper. To the delight of the girls, they would eat with their 
friends where the immortal poet who had concluded “Childe 
Harold” and composed “Don Juan” in the palace often 

128 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


spent his evenings with some of his friends who also lived 
in the “City of the Sea/' 

After the most enjoyable repast which the party decided 
they had ever partaken, under such delightful memories and 
associations, they prevailed upon Dixie to recite the “Ode to 
Venice," which Byron wrote. 

“ T stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, with a palace 
and a prison on each hand’ ’’ — on she recited the immortal 
lines, her hearers following the ornate recitation, flowing 
onward in its setting of the ages of its triumph. Her soul 
was steeped in the poet’s thought, rendering a comprehen- 
sion of its verse. 

The broad light of the moon fell upon the ancient city. 
The palace, dark with the somber past, threw its reflected 
shadow on the waters. The gondoliers were waiting below 
for the party, to convey them in the craft to the Adriatic. 
They went again past the rooms where the poet lived, 
through the corridors into the night, and were seated in 
the gondola to ride through the moonlit streets, filling all 
of romance’s dream surrounding Venice. 

After a while the musicians played, singing the songs of 
the land as minstrels, and the past was brought back in har- 
monies full of gloiy. They burst into song which was the 
pride of the city in her days of renown. Their voices broke 
into an outburst of power and blended with the verse. 

“It is worth a lifetime of anticipation to enjoy riding on 
the lagoons of Venice,’’ said Athenia. “See the faces of 
posterity with classic brows swimming about you ! The ra- 
ven hair curling over alabaster foreheads may cover the soul 
of some Titian or Murillo.’’ 

“Water is the salvation of this city. If all Italy had the 
privilege of public baths, it might again create a Titian,’’ said 
Dixie. “I desire mightily to scrub the faces of these Italian 
9 129 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


cherubs; then, Athenia, you can reach the cast of the art 
which made famous this city/’ 

The rush was intermittent, something like contagion when 
it breaks out in a family. The sights scheduled changed 
hourly. Some one else thought the other thing far prefer- 
able for inspection at that single moment. So in disgust, 
as usual, the ladies surrendered it all to the wiseacres and 
demurely stepped into the gondola at the exact moment 
arranged for, pausing only to watch the woman when she 
struck the final hour. 

The Municipal Museum was next scheduled for inspec- 
tion. The next morning the party went to review it. It was 
all marvelous ware of bronze, glass, crockery, and vases, 
which filled the girls’ commercial souls with delight, both 
immediately expressing themselves as having determined to 
go into business and fill the homeland with art treasures. 

“What would we need to set up a shop but the stamp?” 
asked Athenia. 

“It is impossible to obtain the Venetian stamp. You had 
better forego it until you can see the government and obtain 
a treaty to represent them in America,” said Marmaduke. 

“That is the difficulty. If we use the design to manufac- 
ture, we cannot sell, because we do not furnish the Venetian 
stamp. We will see the Doge before leaving and make some 
arrangement about it,” Athenia decided. 

Athenia and Dixie selected several specimens of this rare 
ware to ship to London to the Umbria. Dixie and the Earl 
attended to the shipping and went early to see to the packing. 
Dixie had an engagement to see an art gallery with Marma- 
duke, which the Countess had also promised to see. But the 
Earl desired that the Countess should go with him, as they 
were undecided about shipping several pieces of statuary. 
This threw Dixie either upon Marmaduke alone or to remain 

130 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


at home. She decided that she was an untrammeled Ameri- 
can girl and would not forego a pleasure of the morning for 
ceremonious dictation; and she accompanied Marmaduke 
readily, with the slightest excuse that the Countess had been 
obliged to accompany the Earl. After taking the other party 
away, the usual gondolier returned for the conveyance of 
Dixie and Marmaduke. 

The paintings were in a far-removed art gallery in a dis- 
tant part of the city. Many beautiful palaces and ancient 
buildings were passed. At last they moored before a weath- 
er-worn, one-time blue structure and dismissed the gondo- 
lier. They went up into the gallery. The interior, like all 
of the public buildings of the city, was a rare depository for 
art. Titian, Tintoretto, and Paul Veronese had some of the 
best of their work there. Many sculptured pieces were set 
in the gallery, adding, as they both thought, grace to the 
gallery more like the furnishings of cathedrals than paint- 
ings alone, not detracting either from the study of the one 
art. 

The extreme beauty of the art glass in the gallery deeply 
interested Dixie. The pattern was superior to any seen be- 
fore. It embraced somewhat of an observatory, where the 
sun’s broad rays were mellowed, falling in a screened light 
on the master’s work, bringing out the tones of subdued art 
of the master. 

“There is always the pink flesh coloring, which is the true 
art; no daub of expressionless color. He is by far the one 
perfect artist,” said Dixie, standing before “Mary, the Moth- 
er of Christ,” Titian’s painting of the Madonna. 

“Paul Veronese is as satisfactory. He is bolder in delin- 
eation ; softer, too, if you study the two closer. His paint- 
ings seem to be made on porcelain in wonderful tints. This 
beautiful "Christ’ far surpasses the one we saw in Florence 

131 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


by him, do you not think, Dixie asked Marmaduke as they 
studied a beautiful canvas of the painter, Paul Veronese, 
who made so many of the masterpieces of Venice. 

The gallery was finished; and they stood waiting at the 
landing for the return of the gondolier, who came speedily 
and took them in a circuitous route past many finer buildings 
distinguished by loggias, columns, and ornate exterior deco- 
rations. They came up at Doge's Palace, which was within 
slight distance of their hotel. After seeing the palace, they 
were ushered to the “Bridge of Sighs.” 

“We will stand again where Byron stood and have that 
enjoyment left us in participation of historic age. The Bas- 
tile we do not wish to see. Sunshine is our life, Dixie, is it 
not ?” Marmaduke asked. 

She looked at him, hoping that he meant it and that the 
clouds which so oppressed him had ultimately disappeared, 
saying: “You are taking the measures you meted to me. 
Let sorrow hide amid gloomy vaults. Man was made for 
light and life. Neither exists in shadow,” she replied. 

“You must not learn the arts of the world, then, or shadow 
will follow sunshine. Trifling with the heart's affections is 
an art as old as the world, and it will never perish as long 
as woman's reign continues,” he said. 

“Or man's duplicity. Her weapons are sharp or blunt, as 
the need demands. I know nothing of this study; it seems 
barbarous to me. Each of us is fate's victim, if we should 
loiter beside all fountains and draw therefrom its resources. 
I shall not dally beside such when all life calls me to un- 
ravel its resources. I want to drink of the cup of knowl- 
edge. If the fullness of love crown its brim, when reason 
urges its draught, I shall drain it to its dregs,” she said as a 
woman might whose heart was too deep to trifle with or 
overthrow the supreme part of existence. 

132 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


'*Has this knowledge no part of the girl’s life? Have you 
never tasted of the spring of all life?” he asked. 

“If the waters of Marah had steeped my soul in bitterness, 
I should not tarry at the fount to seal again my own soul’s 
defeat. You should not speak of this subject again. It only 
robs you of the sunshine of life and sends you back again 
into the tomb from which you have escaped,” she said. 

“As long as a man has a heart it throbs, yearns, and seeks. 
We reach our hearts out to obtain rest. As the body needs 
nourishment, so the heart. We are lonely creatures. One 
way or another we supply the deficit as a bankrupt. Not 
until the supply is cut off entirely do we exhaust our re- 
sources of loving. It is the deepest problem of man’s life, 
a study so intricate that all the wisdom of earth has not com- 
passed it. The Garden of Eden was the hallowed place of 
man’s love. Woman was part of his existence. So does my 
heart yearn to fill this void, Dixie. Child, can you not com- 
prehend me?” he said, his eyes bent in luminous power on 
her. 

Dixie looked at the man, not understanding his purpose. 
How could he soon love again if he meant that she had sat- 
isfied his nature as the part woman takes in a man’s life? 
They had just met. Years of association would be needed 
to decide a life question. True, he did interest her. His 
acquaintance was the satisfying part of their voyage. Still 
there was not that polish of the few men she had met who 
were friends of her sister and of her brother, who came 
home with him at Christmas time. But he was an American 
man, a business man, and interesting. Whether it was love 
or not, the girl could not decide. 

“I comprehend that love is the power of existence; that 
men and women marry at maturity, if they are congenial. 
Romance has wound about all life an illusion, throwing a 

133 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


mirage on life and robbing it of all intrinsic beauty and hal- 
lowedness. I should grow to love one in time if all graces 
of soul, intellect, wisdom, and that indestructible American 
man's incentive were the component parts of his existence," 
she replied. 

“You do not reply to a question. Your demand of a man 
must be met, but not to the degree you demand. Man only 
ripens into an Irving, a Longfellow, or that superb being, a 
business man, as woman soothes the tenor of life for him; 
he ascends or descends the scale of life as her hands blend 
his life. Have you not skill to mold men, Dixie Rochester? 
A child’s hands are true. Science never mixed a girl of such 
a fashion as you are. You will soon become a magnificent 
woman, and no man will interest you. It is the unspoiled 
soul which attracts me. What will a future open for our 
association when these five years of isolation in Siberia are 
past? May I come back to you, Dixie, and sue for the wom- 
an’s heart ?’’ Marmaduke asked, searching deep into the girl’s 
heart. 

“O Mr. Marmaduke ! You see I am but on the threshold 
of womanhood, a student of life. Love or marriage has no 
part in my life. You are deeply interesting to me, more than 
any one else ; but we must not bind ourselves to promises. 
If you should meet a woman who would fill your ideal, mar- 
ry her. I am but a girl. Years from now the question will 
decide itself,’’ said the young woman. 

“Do you care, Dixie? You do care, but you fight for girl- 
hood. The customs of the South debar you from an early 
courtship. I do not mean to ask for your heart now, child ; 
but if you care, tell me. Life is a rude warfare unless wom- 
an stimulates it to endeavor. Will you wait five years and 
give me a chance to make of myself what you demand? T 
would not rob you of a bit of the girlhood that you prize so 

134 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


dearly. Keep your young heart poised, your wings in mid- 
air; suck not the sweets of the rose. But when my friend 
and I return, I must claim you as my wife, Dixie, if your 
heart is not stolen from me. I am afraid to leave it. It is 
a precious charm to me, and I would hide it away,” he 
pleaded. 

“Dc not think that any robber can break through and steal. 
Only books fill my days. Plenty of time will be mine. Fa- 
ther said long ago that we should never think of marriage 
until we have fully enjoyed life. I have made my plans. 
My course of study will enter me in Berlin as a law student. 
The license of the law that my country has oppressed her 
nation with has severed her from original destiny. She is a 
slave to the misusages of her own products. Her conditions 
of living have usurped all authority of a just man's true re- 
sources of life. I must be about assisting to ameliorate my 
nation's conditions,” said the intrepid girl. 

“You are an enthusiast. Yet I shall not scoff; it is need- 
ed. Study, little girl. When age places reason on your 
brow, we will converse on these subjects together. But re- 
member my claim and keep some part of your life for me. 
When the desert is satisfied with man's requisition, I shall 
defend my own,” said Marmaduke, seeing that Dixie would 
not bind herself to any vows. 

Arm in arm they strolled down the old way of the bridge 
in the sunshine where the glistening water shone. Two 
lives and yet separate! Life held everything for both. 
Both were open to the march of existence. He, with his 
life robbed of all sunshine, had reached through his night 
of sorrow to the sunshine of a radiant Southern girl. She, 
too, filled with the charm of a student, could surrender her 
all to one who had nursed his sorrow in her presence. In her 
child heart she thought not of the love which crowned life 

^35 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


in her youth — love which had surrounded her in her father’s 
home, who gave them all. 

It was past one o’clock when they strolled into the hotel 
corridors and sat down at the dinner table. After eating a 
repast together, they went up to the Earl’s suite, to a private 
reception room where they were all assembled. The Earl 
came hastily to meet them and took Dixie away into a private 
room where Athenia was. She sat sobbing in a chair, and 
a telegram lay near her. 

“What can be the matter, Athenia ?” Dixie asked. 

“Read it, dear. Your father is dead,” Athenia replied. 

“My father! my dear, dear father! It cannot be,” Dixie 
answered with whitened face. She read the telegram, with 
the Earl standing near her. 

“My child, my child,” the Earl said, “it is too much for 
you to bear.” 

He put his arms about her as she broke into an uncon- 
trolled sobbing. The Countess came in after the Earl had 
broken to her the news of such terrible import, leaving 
Marmaduke sitting, waiting to be of what service he could 
after some of the terror had passed. The telegram stated 
that her father had been killed in his burning cottonseed oil 
mill. It was signed by her mother, and she was asked to 
return home immediately. 

Stricken amid the bright galaxy her father had chosen 
for her — here where the fairest robe gave setting to art 
treasures he had so much loved and had anticipated as a 
crown for her of student’s desire — what could her mother 
be suffering alone with her dead ! All life had been for them ; 
all thought was to augment the pleasure of their existence. 

Now the fatal hour had come ; and she was in a foreign 
land, even away from the side of her whom she could not 
comfort. She again broke into a flood of weeping. They 

136 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


gathered about the stricken girl and twined their arms about 
the quivering mourner. Her heart was too deep and sweet 
to have its idols fall prone to the earth and give life any part 
in her grief. She weakened under the thrust and staggered, 
blind with pain. 

They hunted up a return ship. It would leave Naples on 
the morrow at four o’clock. The Countess repacked Dixie’s 
trunk. Athenia must remain and conclude her journey, Dix- 
ie said; she could go home; she would bear her pain; she 
must not sacrifice Athenia. The Earl would accompany her 
to Naples. Some tourists from the South may be returning. 

“We must leave within an hour, Dixie, if you catch the 
outbound steamer. Gather up courage, my child, to get to 
your mother and comfort her. Your father was all her life. 
She it is to think of, dear child,” the Earl said comfortingly. 

They gathered about Dixie to tell her good-by. The tour 
had all been so beautiful ! These friends and she had trav- 
eled through a charmed land. Out of a sorrow-laden heart 
she gazed at them through her tears, telling them how she 
had enjoyed the journey at all times and that it would al- 
ways be the brightest part of her life. She had no one now 
to lean on or to trust. She looked at Marmaduke with such 
eyes of solemnity as he came closer to her ! 

Taking her hand, he said : “Dixie, let me take you back to 
your home and to your mother. I have nothing to do but my 
own way. Will you allow me to take you back ?” 

His eyes filled with the light she had seen in them several 
times. Now through her sorrow her own eyes answered as 
if she needed and must have love to bear the sorrow which 
had fallen so heavy into a girl’s young life. But she knew so 
little of Marmaduke ! She thought instantly that he would 
think differently than she would wish, and she closed away 
from her the rush of her need. 

137 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“No, Mr. Marmaduke; your friend has already made 
your arrangements. He is now awaiting you in Rome. It 
would take several weeks to make the trip. I must go alone. 
I am a strong-hearted girl. Sorrow must not undermine 
my nerves. My father never would allow me to be upset 
by anything. He taught us ever to keep our courage and 
bear with fortitude all of lifers changes. It is better that I 
should go home alone.’" She looked at him again with eyes 
of sorrow and continued : “Your kindness is very dear to 
me. Write to me from far-away Siberia. A friend will be 
everything to me now.” 

He clasped both her hands in his and looked again for 
the light which had perhaps unknowingly escaped from 
Dixie’s eyes. Her eyes avoided him, though, now, until he 
asked: “You will remember, Dixie, will you?” 

“I will remember,” she answered, now looking him 
straight in the eyes. 

The train took the Earl and Dixie away, speeding south- 
ward, leaping the rails on its journey back to Florence and 
on to Rome. Ah ! she must see Rome, the “Eternal City” ; 
she must see the pride of the Italians. Through her sorrow 
instantly came a desire to see Rome. 

The train was running noiselessly now. The speed was 
accelerating. The Earl had been talking with the trainmas- 
ter. They were trying to catch the outbound steamer. The 
sky was darkening. They must be close to some city. 

“Ah ! the bay, lying in sapphire blue. And yonder is Mt. 
Vesuvius, Athenia. See the volcano! How sublime is the 
sight 1” said Dixie, turning around in her seat. 

Athenia was not there; but the Earl took Dixie’s hand 
and held it in his own. 

“Dixie, my dear child, I must take you back to your home. 
You cannot go alone.” 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“No, no, dear Earl; I am strong. Athenia and I talked 
over all the sights of our trip. To see Rome and Mt. Ve- 
suvius was a greater part of our interest. We were to 
go and look down into its crater; but now that it has 
begun an eruption, that would be impossible. You must not 
worry. I can control myself until I see my mother, then 
we can comfort each other,'" the girl said, trying to conceal 
the stab of her young life. 

The ship “Venice” had blown its second whistle, and its 
gangway was lifting off the wharfage. With quick step 
and with Dixie leaning on his arm, the Earl leaped up the 
passage, bent downward, and ran with all speed, with the 
slight girl at his side. He introduced her to the clerk, asked 
him to find her friends, if any Southerners were on board, 
and gave her a last good-by kiss. She turned into the ship's 
saloon and passed from his sight. 

The Earl of Aberdeen stood watching the ship until it 
had left the docks and steamed its way off into the sea. 
Not seeing Dixie and thinking that it was all so strange for 
his little cousin, he sadly turned from the sight of the rap- 
idly-moving ship and went back to the hotel and soon after- 
wards took the return train to Venice. 

The clerk found on the ship's register the names of sev- 
eral well-known families from Vicksburg. He accosted the 
men of the party, acquainting them of the unfortunate young 
lady who had lost her father in Helena and who was alone 
on the return trip. The gentlemen were merchants of the 
city. They had intimately known the Rochesters of Nat- 
chez and had also met Russell Rochester several times on 
the Exchange in New Orleans. They immediately sent the 
lady members of their party, several years older than Dixie, 
to her stateroom. These became companions of the bereft 
girl on the voyage. 


139 


XIL 

TRAGEDY. 


The ship was passing away from, Italy, departing from 
classic lands. Dixie wished that her way was open to look 
again on the land of so much art, so much beauty, and so 
much history. If she could only look at the classic shores 
of the land that held so much of the story of the world’s 
deepest interests and research! Where is Herculaneum? 
Where Pompeii? Out of the ashes of ages the lost glory 
of the Byzantium arose, surrounding Greece, Turkey, and 
the Bosporus with kaleidoscopic glory. If she could only 
see the departing shores before the book closed on childhood 
and its rich study I 

As if to answer her longing, the knock of the friends came 
at her door. She opened it, and they were introduced to 
her by the clerk of the ship, who accompanied them. 

“We wish to ask if you would accompany us to the deck 
for a view of the Bay of Naples. It embodies many historic 
sights that you may much desire to see. Will you accom- 
pany us?” they kindly asked, hoping that the view would 
distract her mind, not knowing the girl, who had depths of 
nature and comprehended even through her suffering, the 
demand on her of keeping a natural tenor of life, as her 
early teaching had nurtured. 

“I thank you indeed for the suggestion. I was deeply 
wishing that I could obtain a last look at the shores of beau- 
tiful Italy,” she said; “but I was alone and knew not what 
to do. You are from Vicksburg, too? I am very glad to 
form your acquaintance. Did the clerk tell you of my be- 
reavement?” Tears came to her eyes as they entered the 
saloon, she following them to the deck. 

140 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“The blue, blue Mediterranean Dixie said as the breeze 
lifted her veil. “The land is stored with song and renowned 
with art, sculptures, and paintings by Raphael, Michelan- 
gelo, and Murillo. Its shores are classical.’^ 

“Do you love Italy, Miss Rochester? Are you a devotee 
of this great land 

“Yes; it has cast an aureole over life to fill it with this 
glowing matter, stimulating laggard need. He, my dear 
father, was the Angelo, the Thorwaldsen, carving the hu- 
man statue ; no one so comprehended the work as he. Was 
not St. Peter’s changed after the death of Michelangelo?” 
she asked sadly. 

They stood watching the receding shores — shores of the 
greatest military glory the earth will ever see; where the 
famed dominion of Greece fought for ascendancy; where 
Alexander’s ships strove; where Caesar made Italian histo- 
ry ; where the Egyptian, rich in earliest power, laid dynasty ; 
where Spain was the land of the Moors in opulent kingdom 
unchallenged. 

Several days passed, and a great object loomed on the 
expanse. Old shippers knew that it was Gibraltar. There 
congregated a multitudinous shipping. Flags of every na- 
tion interwove gay coloring. The giant stood stalwart from 
the sea — England’s lion, couchant on Spanish soil, guarding 
the entrance to a sea where dead triumphs daunt forever 
the ages of commercial ascendancy. It has contributed to 
all ages a history too rich in medieval power ever to dupli- 
cate. 

Dixie, poor girl, had been taught composure from early 
childhood. Let waves toss ever so angrily their manes ; let 
the fiery horses of impatience stamp ever so wildly in their 
hurry ; let them not break asunder their bits. But the spent 

141 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


nature wearied day by day and fell into disquieting slumber 
only when exhausted. 

To-morrow came — came as it does to those who wait or 
to those who tarry not — and the far shore of New York 
gleamed in the morning sun. They immediately took the 
train and sped over the intervening space to the South. 
Two of the ladies accompanied Dixie to her mother’s home, 
consigning the girl into her mother’s arms and taking the 
boat the next day for Vicksburg. 

Lucille and Russell had reached their mother within a 
few days. Friends solicitous for Mrs. Rochester’s welfare 
had remained by her day and night and were yet in the 
home ministering to the family when Dixie returned. Mrs. 
Rochester had entirely collapsed beneath the tragedy. Her 
slight form fell beneath the first stroke of her life, and she 
lay wasted with grief. She looked up when Dixie reached 
her, controlling her own sorrow to comfort the child who 
was so young for the grief of life to fall upon. 

Dixie’s father had been laid away back on the hills, back 
where a man’s pride had culminated in the height of a man’s 
endeavor, back where the Mississippi would ever flow beside 
his resting place on its way to the Gulf. He had reared the 
achievements of man’s effort. Many a noble work had Rus- 
sell Rochester laid in his city beside the great commercial 
river of the South. Now at his side fell his hands with labor 
uncompleted, snatched away from its ultimate height, not 
yet in his prime. Young people gathered about him, reach- 
ing for his standard of altitude, which but few attain. His 
children should be polished after the similitude of a palace, 
the corner stones of a great home life. The palatial pro- 
portions had attained but half of their development when the 
architect’s hand was stayed, and his business was left help- 
less and hardly half finished. The cottonseed oil mill had 

142 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


flourished ; and a cotton mill, where the white goods were to 
unroll the fleecy fabric before the astonished gaze of the city, 
was about to be constructed from an investment of other 
properties which were doubling returns. It was gone. The 
plans were placed away, and the work was left unfinished. 
The home back on the hill was shrouded in crape. Russell 
Rochester had gone to a man's reward. 

The family hovered together, looking often into the faces 
of one another for assurance and support, until strength 
returned to take up the active duties of life. 

The Christmas days passed. The early morning chant of 
the negroes brought Dixie speeding down the steps to un- 
lock the front entrance. She brought them all into the 
drawing-room and distributed gifts until they felt that the 
“old massa" had left a daughter who never would forget 
the poor negro. There were sweetmeats, confections, cloth- 
ing for the elder ones, bright dresses for the little grand- 
daughters of Job, and books for his two boys in school. 
She conducted them into a room where breakfast was 
served them, the family all meeting them and speaking 
Christmas cheer. 

Mrs. Rochester gave several acres of land and several 
choice animals to the family servants to begin a home with. 
She said that Colonel Rochester had intended to bestow 
them if they would accept them in his name. They blessed 
his name, spoke of him as the negro's friend, and at last 
bade the family good-by, wending their way down the hill 
to their own firesides. 

The gifts that Dixie had purchased in Florence she be- 
stowed on her family. She sent several gifts to her chums 
by a house servant and received return presents. 

The great dining room was closed, and a small breakfast 
room was utilized for the present. Cherished memoirs 

143 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


hung around many days of Christmas where the central 
figure filled the big armchair of the dining room, carved 
the turkey, served the guests, which made gay the life of 
the Rochesters. So also the great drawing-room, for here 
he played Santa Claus. The tree always stood covered back 
in the ell and the room darkened. Now they closed it all off 
imtil the season be past, and went up into the guests’ room, 
away from the painful memories of the lost father. 

The white snow lay over all the South at the dawn of 
the new year. The bleak trees were “inch-deep with 
pearl” ; the magnolia’s palm leaf held several thicknesses of 
white; the cedar’s branches were strewn with the clinging 
beauty; the elms lifted away their great trunks clothed in 
majestic raiment of winter; the stone steps had received an 
extra covering of white; the statues ornamenting the ter- 
races were doubly arrayed ; and one Venus’s lifted hand was 
filled with snow in the land of far-away Arkansas. The far- 
flowing tide was black in molten lead slipping away beside 
white banks unnoticed. The white forest which swept 
away in interminable lengths was a panorama of winter’s 
white dress. Nature lay asleep in the cold sunshine of the 
new year. 

Dixie threw open the shutters and raised the south win- 
dow with an exclamation of delight. The far-away sight 
was a magnificent view, and the terraces below were covered 
with snow. A clambering vine reached her window case- 
ment with an unexpected surprise of winter. 

Breakfast was served in the breakfast room. Then she 
essayed the porch of the room again to look at the white 
landscape about her. A snowball hit her directly on the 
cheek. She looked to see who had the audacity to throw at 
her, when another snowball came crashing against her head. 
She then jumped to the lower step and saw her brother 

144 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Russell running around the corner of the veranda. She 
followed him, making snowballs as she went and pommeling 
him severely, ball for ball. Lucille and her mother went to 
the window to watch the fun. It ended in a pitched battle, 
both raising the white flag for time. When ready, the battle 
became a hand-to-hand combat, both ending with faces 
washed, hair touseled, and the cavities of their nostrils and 
ears stuffed with nature's contribution. 

Russell begged his mother to let him hitch up the sleigh 
and take them all for a ride far out the road to see the 
snow. Mrs. Rochester consented. Russell soon had the 
two-seated sleigh and a pair of fine gray horses at the porte- 
cochere. They filed down the steps, got into the sleigh, and 
whirled up the Marianna road between the forest trees laden 
with the first snow of winter. 

Their spirits brightened all along the way, and the fine 
cold of winter made ruddy cheeks. On they sped far to the 
north, returning only when the dinner bell was being rung. 

During the month letters from far-away Rome came to 
Dixie. The party had reached the city on Christmas Day. 
Athenia and the Earl wrote lovingly to the family. Page 
after page was devoured by Dixie, who read aloud the con- 
tents of the letters to the family. Athenia's father had con- 
sented for her to remain in Europe. In his last letter from 
the Philippines he agreed, she said, for her to enter the uni- 
versity immediately. She was returning with the Earl and 
Countess, who were on their way to London, as their eldest 
daughter, Cameilyan, was in delicate health. She had 
sprained her ankle and called continuously for her mother. 
As her ankle had not healed properly, they feared a per- 
manent defect. 

Athenia also wrote of the attractive points of interest in 
and about Rome. But she could not tell her all, so she sent 

145 


10 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


a bunch of extraordinary photographs of popular places 
visited and also promised to send photographs of the points 
of interest in Berlin, paying her back as much as possible for 
the sacrifice which Dixie made; but it was not all of life. 
She looked forward to meeting Dixie next year. They 
would then continue their studies together. 

Marmaduke essayed perfection of detail in his writing. 
His chirography was exquisite. Except the fine hand of her 
brother, Dixie had never seen a better scribe. Reading his 
descriptions was like entering a charmed land. His affec- 
tion prohibited the showing of his letters to her family. The 
girl well knew that her mother would not allow her to cor- 
respond with a gentleman at her age in school life ; so away 
to her own room Dixie carried the letter. She read and re- 
read it, delighting in the beauty of the language and satis- 
fied at the tenor of its heart portrayal. She locked it in her 
Taj Mahal and strung the key around her neck. Dixie had 
been pushed into a love affair unknowingly and unobserved 
by the child-woman to satisfy the craving of a broken- 
hearted man. Sometimes she flamed up and fought. Such 
bondage was humiliation to her. She would not permit her 
girlhood to be inveigled by such an outrage. 

Dixie had read many books ; and all literature is impreg- 
nated with romance. Scott's novels were historically filled 
with romance, but of a very high order. The trifling sub- 
stance of the present day was not the love of history; it was 
regal, lofty, soul-inspiring, something to live for and some- 
thing to die for — as Lord Summer said to her when she was 
talking of Duroc's friendship: ''He laid down his life at her 
feet and took it not upon again.” 

But how young she was for men of his years to subject 
her girlhood to such attacks ! Her evasion of diplomacy he 
failed to understand. She must avoid the subject. All the 

146 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


training of her young life had been foimulative’ ascent. 
She could not and did not desire to forego the restrictions 
of the South. Other battles they had fought as property. 
The slaves had been sold to them. Their education was a 
divine plan. The South had taught them to work and, again, 
had hired them to work. The battle still was being fought in 
the Senate of the United States by an ignorant few who 
had never lifted a gun. But the negro was still uneducated 
and still roamed, idle, in the North and in the South. Meas- 
ures for the education of their brother in black who had 
been left on the South for support should be their closest 
study. It would be better to evolve plans of acreage, a pig, 
and a mule for the setting up of housekeeping than to fight 
‘'an American statue'* when the Northern lot were so impe- 
cunious in the Hall of Fame in sculptured pieces or orna- 
mentation. There were but few busts on pedestals. 

But Dixie was not yet ready to battle with the solons of 
her country. She was preparing, and the matter pertaining 
to Marmaduke annoyed her. She fretted at it and could 
not understand why a girl was love-assailed by men of their 
age. What had she more than any other girl? She stud- 
ied the question and felt that it was just girlhood, simplicity, 
and dauntlessness. Well, she was through. There was no 
need of worrying. For five years she was free not to think 
of a man. Books, the loved things, and her family were all 
she needed. 

But she must go downstairs. Her brother and sister 
had now gone back to the East to school, and mother would 
think that she had forgotten her. She would look over the 
books her father had taken down for the winter course. 
She had noticed them stacked on the library table. He was 
a great lover of the abstruse authors — Montagu, Alexander 
Pope, and Thompson's “Seasons," with his great heart of 

147 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


nature. At last she picked up a book where her father had 
left his index, a motto she had embroidered. A lump came 
in her throat. She laid the book down and left the library, 
hunting for her mother. 

Evening in the great house came. Dixie and her mother 
were left alone again. Evenings had been resumed in the 
library. The ruddy gleam of the fireplace made its own 
sociability. Dixie reached to the table for some loved vol- 
ume to read to her mother. 

'‘Mother, shall I finish Pollock's ‘Course of Time'? Fa- 
ther left the index here where he had been reading it to you. 
These long winter evenings give us an opportune time to 
reach the thought of these masters of literature. His pol- 
ished paragraphs make the matter a rich study for us. Do 
you wish him ?" Dixie asked. 

“Either Pollock or Montagu. Montagu's classic essays 
lead to the disrupting of the flagrant pen as Murillo does a 
daub. France has given literature many chaste models of 
fame. Her ‘Rabelais' was one of your father's favorites. 
He was called the ‘Jester of France.' It glitters with satire. 
Voltaire aroused him to a height of worship. He influenced 
the thought terminating in the French Revolution. But read 
Pollock this evening. Our minds are not receptive yet. We 
can digest this better," answered Mrs. Rochester. 

Several evenings were spent in communing with the au- 
thors who had so powerfully influenced the literature and 
history of the nations of the earth. One evening while thus 
engaged an alarm went pealing through the big house. Pres- 
ently Job appeared with a card on a silver tray. The name 
inscribed was “Judge Hart." 

“Have him come right in. Job. We will receive him here 
in the library. Formality is not necessary at this time," Mrs. 
Rochester said. 


148 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The old darky, who had come back to remain with his 
‘*ole missus 'cause her hu’band had died and de po' chile had 
no one to care for her on the livin' earth," backed out of 
the door, facing his “missus" with the old-fashioned cour- 
tesy which the family servant “ 'lighted honorin' theysel’s 
with." 

A large, elegant man of perhaps six feet or more crossed 
the threshold of the library and came straight across to Mrs. 
Rochester, who had risen from her chair and advanced to 
meet him. 

“Judge Hart, what a pleasure it is to meet you !" . 

They clasped hands cordially. 

“I felt, madam, that I might in some way serve you," 
answered the courteous visitor. 

“I thank you for such exceedingly kind remembrance. 
We have tried to fall back into the routine of life and take 
up the duties devolving upon us. Lucille and Russell left us 
last week, returning to the East. Dixie and I are alone," 
she spoke bravely. 

“I bring you Mrs. Hart's kindest regards. She wished 
very much to come with me, but the snow is so severe this 
winter that she dared not risk it. She dares little," he 
stated. 

“I thought of her when I saw the storm. It will confine 
her to the house for a while. It is unusual for the South 
to have such a storm. The thermometer recorded six above 
last night. I see by the morning paper that it is all through 
the East. I fear for the shipping off the Atlantic," she con- 
tinued. 

“They will feel it, but the relief cutters are a salvation. 
They have saved many lives. We will doubtless get our 
overflow, as usual, when such snows fall on the mountains, 
and this was general. But we doubled our levee system last 

149 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


year, thanks to your husband and Mr. Miles. If anything 
was needed, your husband saw that it was done. With half 
a dozen more men like him we could perfect our levees and 
double our population in a couple of years. After every 
overflow people leave by the hundreds. If the government 
does not take up the plan of salvation for the Mississippi 
Basin, the country is doomed.'’ The Judge spoke lengthily, 
as one who had suffered much property loss by river inva- 
sion. 

“When we had the last overflow, the devastation to set- 
tlers was enormous. My husband felt the demand of legis- 
lative influence. His measures were not adoptive; they 
needed to be national. But he was far from a politician; 
so he threw his own resources into the levee and built it as 
high as possible," she replied. 

“Russell fought the good fight of faith. We must come 
to an understanding of the problem. Our land is rich and 
productive. It must be saved. I shall enter the race for a 
seat in the legislature next time and fight tooth and nail for 
the demands of the much-mooted question," he replied. 

“It demands men to stand again for the protection of 
State rights of a long-oppressed people. The outraged con- 
dition of poor settlers will arouse every decent citizen. We 
must provide for the helpless or neglect the motto of our 
Union — Tn union we are strengthened,' " she felt enthused 
for the settlers to say. 

“How about the condition of your husband's business? 
Was everything kept up and cared for? He had but re- 
turned from Brazil. I saw him but a moment at the Davis 
Club, and he said that the irrigation far surpassed his rarest 
dreams. But he had so little time. I called this evening to 
render you service, if I could, on any matter whatever. He 
always said to me, ‘Hart, if anything happens while I am 

150 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


away in Brazil, look after my business affairs. You are my 
brother,' " said the Judge kindly. 

A long-drawn sigh escaped Mrs. Rochester ; but she spoke 
quickly, saying : “Dixie and I went through his papers after 
the children went back to school. The insurance on his 
mill had just run out. He had neglected to reinsure, and 
it had lapsed,” she answered, hardly able to control her 
voice. 

Dixie’s heart wailed. Could it be that he who was so 
thorough should neglect anything? The irrigation had ab- 
sorbed him. Why had she ever left him? On Saturdays 
he always gave her such things to look up. But what did 
the Judge say? 

“Yes, his sugar investments were taking his thoughts. He 
told me that if he could have stayed on the ground it would 
have netted him a million dollars a year. He had finished 
the irrigation, and this was to have been his maiden crop. 
I would have given years of my life to have seen him realize 
this great object. Few men could develop land under the 
conditions that Russell Rochester did,” said the friend of 
the husband of the bereft widow. 

“He was the forerunner of the evolved scheme. He had 
interested financiers in New Orleans and was forming a 
syndicate to purchase large sections of this land and irrigate 
it on a large basis. Now others will take it up, and our loss 
will be permanent,” she replied. 

“The State lost one of its progenitors when Russell was 
lost to us. Men of State construction are but little known 
or felt largely until they drop by the wayside, and then there 
is no one to take the helm,” the Judge said. 

“He received many letters concerning the extracting of 
oil from cotton seed for domestic use, as food for cattle, and 
the refuse for fuel. The Scientific American kept him busy 

151 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


discussing the question in its columns. It was diverting 
a commodity to lines of commercial use which became a 
dominant factor. He called the world’s attention to it,” 
proudly stated Mrs. Rochester. 

“He won the first prize offered by Nevill & Sons for the 
first bale of cotton in 1855. That red Bible lying on your 
library table was the gift he received. We were all in com- 
petition with him and indefatigably wielded our efforts, but 
uselessly. He had his first bale in on the last day of August, 
three weeks before ours was baled.” 

The Judge talked to Mrs. Rochester reminiscently of his 
friend. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he kept recounting 
the early friendship between the two. They talked long into 
the evening. Job came in to replenish the fire ; he threw on 
another backlog, forestick, and builders, replaced the screen 
before it, and bowed out of the room. The hour of eleven 
tolled from the hall clock. The Judge arose from his seat, 
apologized for the lengthy visit, and bade good-by to Mrs. 
Rochester. 

Turning to Dixie, the Judge said: “Dixie, keep up the 
cheer of the home. The Rochesters never repine; sunshine 
or rain, they keep bright.” 

Turning again to the mother, he said: “I leave you in 
God’s hands.” 

Mrs. Rochester, overcome with grief, turned back into the 
room. The Judge went into the hall. Job brought his coat, 
held it for him, and assisted him to put it on. He then 
handed him his hat and cane and escorted him to his car- 
riage. He awoke the sleeping coachman and placed the 
Judge in his rig. After returning to the house, Job locked 
up the lower part of the house and slipped back to his cabin 
and went to bed. 

On Monday duties were resumed. Dixie thought she 

152 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


would reply to the mass of letters which it had been impos- 
sible for her to take care of ei-e that time. Letter-writing 
had ever been an art with her. Association demanded pol- 
ished standards. Her father's letters to her abroad had 
been similar to those penned by Aaron Burr to his daughter 
— elegant, replete with anecdotes of travel, filled with the 
deep purpose of living, and delightful in narrative. She 
had placed them in her sacred compartments, referring to 
them now as a study in letter-writing. 

She took hours to respond to her loved budget, and she 
dug deep into her youthful brain to make it quite up in the 
world's view of her personality. She had read Byron's let- 
ters to her father. His polished diction was a portion of 
her home education. Now she was called upon to reply to 
Lord Summer and Basil Marmaduke. It overwhelmed the 
girl. Lord Summer's letters were brimming over with jol- 
lity and were interesting to Dixie, who understood him and 
his sincerity of nature. If she could only write to Marma- 
duke with the same freedom, if he had only a friend's place 
with her! But the composition was distinctly formal, with 
a chaste, beautiful construction, like some fair palace a 
noted architect would make plans for. Personal corre- 
spondence was a novel idea to Dixie. She met it grudgingly, 
as a novitiate. 


153 


XIII. 

LIFE IN DIXIE. 

Spring broke over the South, and every chirp of the birds 
came to Dixie's casement. The pushing daffodils awoke in 
their beds, and the hyacinths by the south window broke 
through the ground like little tunnelers, throwing the soil to 
one side. The purple clematis blossomed and broke into 
leaf, throwing a wealth of rich blooms over the veranda’s 
height. The graceful spiraea and bridal wreath, weighted 
down with pearls, draped the lawn. The magnolias formed 
buds, and the heavy palm leaf extended its palm. The rose’s 
heavy fragrance pervaded the atmosphere. All plant life 
quivered with resuscitated existence. The pines and hem- 
locks had for weeks flickered the sward with shade, when 
Dixie came through the umbrageous growth around the din- 
ing-room walk and ascended the steps. 

‘T brought you a handful of lilies of the valley!” ex- 
claimed Dixie to her mother. ‘T watched them shoot up 
their sprouts. The dainty spires appeared first; and then 
the bells formed, laden with perfume. You love them so 
much.” She handed them to her mother, who placed them 
in a cut-glass rose jar. “How sweet you look, mother! 
Did you remember that this was my seventeenth birthday 
when you donned the lavender morning dress?” Dixie 
touched the rare lace falling about her mother’s neck and 
v/ound her arm about her shoulder. 

“Your father loved for me to dress so. His household 
must always be dressed in becoming colors. He loved white 
best,” she said to her daughter’s loving comment. 

The faint perfume of lavender ever clung fittingly about 
Julia Rochester. The charm of her robe was daintiness. 

154 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Her slight head was so womanly on shapely, erect shoulders, 
faultless in contour, face fine in expression, with ever that 
earnestness of purpose which fell as a heritage to her family 
of children. 

They were seated at the white damask-covered table in 
the breakfast room and ate the spring chicken and milk 
gravy with parsley strewn over it. The cut-glass dishes of 
strawberries from Job's hothouse were carefully saved for 
this auspicious occasion. They were as red as red grew 
and were as delicious as only Job knew how to cultivate. 

The sally lunn was so light that Dixie said: “Breakfast 
is the culmination of art perfection. With all this effort I 
oass into my new year.” 

Mrs. Rochester touched her glass of lilies of the valley, 
saying to Dixie: “These are a harbinger of spring. Your 
father set that bed of flowers out when you were two weeks 
old, just as soon after the war as he could get them from 
Childs'. And to-day you are a woman !'' The mother's eyes 
looked lovingly at her youngest daughter. 

“Transition, mother. Dissipate not my joy of days. When 
I don the gray garb of womanhood, these hallowed hours 
will, one by one, be placed in the rose jar of memory ; as the 
leaves fall, the rose jar will be filled,'' Dixie replied to her 
mother. 

They strolled out onto the front veranda. A white steam- 
er was floating down the Mississippi. White smoke emitted 
from her steampipes, and a deep whistle reverberated 
through the crisp early air. The waves curled to either side 
of opposite banks. Dixie and her mother walked to the 
terrace steps and watched the boat through the lifting fog 
until the bend of the river hid it from sight. 

School days to Dixie sped on, a rosary uncounted. She 
had a year more before her entrance into the old German 

155 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


university. The girl’s mind looked at the future as if golden 
doors were to swing on golden hinges into a portcullis of 
brain extraction. She delved into the recesses with the 
force of dominant character, filling up the spaces of early 
years with a gloating delight of matter furnished in the 
systems perfecting in her Southland. Geometry and trigo- 
nometry she mastered triumphantly. Greek and Latin she 
familiarized herself with until her translation was scoring 
her monthly her one-hundred mark. Ancient history she 
had concluded the last year, which influenced her teacher 
and parents to send her abroad to gain a more technical the- 
ory of what constituted nations, the construction and devel- 
opment. This had hardly been touched by the student. A 
deeper study had been added to this year’s work, more in 
commercial progress, including a study of national produc- 
tiveness which was clearly defining the outgrowth of na- 
tions and its substantive power of retaining development. 
Dixie had found the book in the German library in Heidel- 
berg, which much interested her professor. 

With mornings at school, afternoons in study, and eve- 
nings with her mother, Dixie passed through the spring 
months. Mrs. Rochester grew brave, and her face assumed 
a more cheerful appearance. Many an evening Dixie would 
roll the chess table out (her mother and father had so often 
played together), and now she essayed to excel her mother, 
an old player at the game. She attempted to run off a Wa- 
terloo evening after evening. Dixie played scientifically with 
her mother, but seldom did she get the game; Mrs. Roch- 
ester played skillfully and adroitly, and the girl was often 
defeated, assuming the tragic airs of a deposed queen and 
swearing in polished words her revenge. But the next eve- 
ning she sallied into the ring for a more careful game. So 
on they played until the days became too warm to remain in 

156 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the house, and they took to the verandas and fans of palm, 
often serving supper, too, behind the vine-screened porch. 

June came, and Lucille and Russell returned from school 
to brighten up the somber, lonely days the household had 
suifered alone. Lucille, a charming woman of twenty, en- 
tered her lofty domain with regal airs, like some queen step- 
ping up on her throne. 

Dixie thought: ‘T do not envy her her stateliness. Let 
me romp awhile ; let me enjoy youth and its game.’* 

Russell remained only a few weeks to tease and humor 
the household into extravagance. He always was thinking 
up some pleasant surprise — such as tickets for an evening at 
a musicale, or some trip to the adjacent lake, where the 
steam launches were and the dancing hall and many other 
attractions to dissipate time. The gray horses stood at the 
carriage steps all day long, bringing or taking parties of the 
young people to and fro. Russell accompanied his mother, 
too, on her business trips to the city, driving her back and 
forth, with her glad heart enjoying his care and courtesy. 
The gay romps with his regal sister, tousling her up incon- 
spicuously, did his boy heart great good. She awaited her 
revenge ; and, with black eyes sparkling, she backed him into 
some corner, applying a suds bath or some noxious matter 
*'to perfect him,” she declared, “in manhood.” 

The transcontinental lines were projecting through the 
wilderness a new route to the Pacific. By a request of the 
committee, Russell had been included for assistance in sur- 
veying without pay, but for the experience, during his sum- 
mer vacation. As it was a formative opportunity, he eagerly 
accepted this chance. His mother and Dixie took him to the 
depot in time to catch the train for Denver, whence his party 
were to leave at the end of the week. With nothing in his 
hand but a hand satchel containing a corduroy suit and a 

T57 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


sombrero, he bade them good-by and boarded the train, to 
be lost in the fastnesses of the Rockies. 

Of course the household returned to a somewhat respect- 
able routine of manners and conditions, all wishing that the 
boy had never gone away, all glad of safe heads and apparel. 
Lucille took it upon herself to repair the departure by the 
sound of music. The harpsichord throbbed with the touch 
of a master. Dixie and Mrs. Rochester sat on the veranda 
listening as the white river faded from view, while the soul 
of a woman held converse with the chords of melody. 

Many guests thronged the spacious parlors of the Roches- 
ter home. The doors were thrown open to gayety, which 
livened its portals. There were boating parties, moonlight 
drives to distant places of interest, and excursions to fash- 
ionable Clear Lake, where the tourists flocked especially for 
bathing and fishing and where the sport was enjoyed be- 
cause of the deep waters of transparent clearness. They 
camped at the lake for a week’s outing; but they soon re- 
turned, being annoyed by the mosquitoes. 

The trip which they had planned as of most consequence 
was to the lodge on the St. Francis River. Here Judge 
Hart and Colonel Rochester had built a lodge of trees from 
the forest. They plastered it inside and placed windows 
and doors in it. Around it they built a high fence, with a 
gate, which they fastened with a padlock. Several St. Louis 
men, business friends of both Judge Hart and Colonel 
Rochester, had built lodges by this one. These were thrown 
open to the young people every summer for their three 
weeks’ stay. 

“Dixie, I will chaperon the party to the lodge with Mrs. 
Hart again this year. The girls insist that we take preserv- 
ing kettles and sugar and do some canning up there. When 
the boys fish all morning it leaves them unoccupied in the 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


afternoon, and I consented to let them pick blackberries this 
year. So place all the necessary things in the hampers,” 
her mother said. 

^‘That is scientific, mother, studying the economic. The 
girls will have a new insect to study in their anatomy. It 
is impossible to elude the chiggers,” replied Dixie to her 
mother^s command. 

“They will wear gloves. Include as many pairs as you can 
find. Have Charlotte assist in packing the hampers, and 
have Job take them to the wharf, to be shipped to Marianna 
on the morning packet. We must have sufficient room for 
the baggage,” her mother replied. 

The carryall from the livery barn brought by a gay party 
at eight o’clock. Mrs. Rochester and Lucille joined them, 
and they wound off around the side of the hill to their 
destination. 

Dixie was left with the maid as housekeeper, as usual, 
and she searched for something to keep her busy. She 
examined the rosebushes to see if the worms had attacked 
them; she sprayed them thoroughly, sprinkling insect pow- 
der over them afterwards ; she filled the library vases with 
magnolias and went to the kitchen to see about lunch. 

“Miss Dixie, ole Buck come by with some musk’dimes. 
He said he’d take fifty cents a bushel. Dat’s mighty cheap. 
Your ma will be all tired out when she comes back. If we 
su’prise her and have de fruit put up, she will be mighty 
glad,” Charlotte said when she entered the door. 

“The very thing! Mother will be so surprised! If you 
will take charge, I will assist you. But no important work 
until my first lesson is learned. How much sugar to a quart 
do you use for preserving muscadines?” asked the girl, 
willing to learn domestic economy. 

“My honey! Don’ you know, chile, dat musk’dimes am 

159 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


richer dan plums? Two-thirds sugar for full quart. Now, 
dat's de fust step. Have you Tamed it ?” she questioned. 

“Yes, I understand what you say. But wait until the 
fruit is ready; then if it is not all burned up, we will repeat 
the lesson to see if directions were complied with. Order 
the fruit, Charlotte, as soon as you see Buck. Order about 
two bushels. We will make some sweet pickles, too,” said 
the young housekeeper, who donned her domestic apron and 
rolled up her sleeves in readiness to preserve the fruit. 

“I did ; dey set yon'er in dat porch pantry. Dat's de way 
de missus have me do when she am "way. An" we can pick 
de stems off. Fll get de sugar, and you kin measure de 
"mount needed. It’ll be a big su’prise for de missus,"" the 
colored woman said. 

Several days were spent in preserving and making rich 
sweet pickles. Dixie delighted in learning this art in do- 
mestic science. She carried jar after jar to the fruit cellar. 

“I "spec" I might as well hab gone to "sist de missus. You 
am a good han" at wo"k,"" Charlotte said. 

Fruits kept pouring in daily, and Dixie kept on with the 
canning and preserving. She was impregnated with busi- 
ness and wished to take charge of all necessary affairs of 
the household in order. Jellies were prepared under her 
hand. This seemed to be the supreme excellence of the 
fruit-preserving. The small fruits were especially superior 
as a delicacy. The season was at its fullest. They vrorked 
industriously, until the cellar had its usual number of jars, 
then they laid away their utensils. Dixie then began taking 
up the carpets, covering the chairs with white linen, and 
screening the doors and windows with brown canvas. July 
was coming, and the party would return. Several times 
Dixie had been sent fish from the St. Francis, which she 
cooked without breaking the slightest particle. 

i6o 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Your ladder never let nobody cook fish for him but me. 
It’s hard to turn widout breakin’ it. Your mudder will be sur- 
prised at you ; she will not b’lieve it, either,” said Charlotte. 

“Don’t engage your girls to any one if you mean for 
them to learn the art of housekeeping and cooking, Char- 
lotte. When I marry I want them both. Then I shall never 
worry about my house. Will you make that bargain?” Dixie 
asked of her. 

“La’, missus, I don’ know nothin’ ’bout dat Lize and Sue ! 
Dey’s in a conserv’tor’ studyin’ music, and de other’n’s 
paintin’. Colored folks has passed de day bein’ cooks; dey 
’spec’s to be a president’s wife sometime. You’d better get 
a Chinaman ; dey’s good cooks,” said Charlotte. 

“Well, we American girls will need to learn the old art 
of making happy homes ourselves if the colored girls desert 
us to learn fine arts. It is a new day for them. I wish for 
them all joy and innate talent.” 

Letters from the excursion party were few and far be- 
tween. They were having fun, her mother wrote. Several 
of the boys had fiddles, and every night they danced. All 
day they romped and fished. The girls, too, were fishing 
and had landed some of the largest fish in the river. Lucille 
had raced several times; she was an expert; no one could 
catch the swift girl. They swung big swings on superb 
beaches; the spot was ideal. They were having the best 
time of their lives, Lucille said to tell her. By the last of 
the week they would be home. 

Much laughing and shouting attended the return of the 
party as they drove up the circuitous road to the house and 
deposited Lucille and her mother. Dixie ran down the steps 
to assist her mother. 

“Dixie, do you know me?” Lucille asked as she jumped 
from the carryall. 


II 


i6i 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“I told mother that if you picked berries the chiggers 
would eat you up. What a sight ! You are ruined by sun- 
burn, too. Such a complexion ! How did you tan your 
face so? What can you do with those freckles? You look 
like a turkey egg,’' said the astonished Dixie, looking at her. 

“We just had our fun. We tried to wear sunbonnets, but 
they were no good. Look at Virginia Rollins. She is to- 
tally erased from existence. Her glossy wealth of blonde 
hair is streaked with brown. It is my last summer at the 
lodge, I can tell you. But the fun! Look at the boys; 
they are almost black,” she continued. 

“We are going in for a bleach. We will get it off,” they 
holloed. “Come and see us after a while,” they replied, 
waving their hands as the carryall drove off. 

Then the bleaching process began. Ointments and cures 
were in abundance. Boiled cucumbers attacked olfactory 
nerves throughout the house. Dixie made many excursions 
to the druggist for glycerin and other seemingly nameless 
compounds. They lined the bathroom shelves and medicine 
closets. Heads and arms were bandaged and incased in 
ointments. Mosquito bites took a particular healing balm. 
Little patches of salve were placed on the largest freckles. 
Dixie was convulsed all day long, peeping around corners 
and poking fun at the condition of the freckled patients. 

At last her mother said: “If you don’t stay away from 
the girls, you will be locked up in your room. I will not 
stand another day of your teasing. Leave the house or go 
to your room. The girls are half crazy with their plight. 
You must. stop teasing them.” 

“Well, mother, Scylla and I will go far away over dale 
and hill. If we are lost, you know the reason why — ^be- 
cause Lucille persists in using the odd false face so much.” 

August days crept in with breathless tread over the 
162 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


prostrate South. The interior of the Rochester house was 
darkened, and the hall door was superseded by Venetian 
blinds. The verandas were heavily canvased. The inside 
furnishings looked cool in their white linens and white mat- 
ting of bordered rugs. Scrim fell from the curtain poles 
over the doorways and windows. The feather beds were 
taken to the garret, and light mattresses were laid on the 
springs. Linen sheeting was used instead of the cotton of 
winter weather. Cooking was prohibited in the kitchen 
proper of the house. The summer kitchen, separated by a 
corridor, kept its steaming early morning odors and heat in 
its own secluded spot. 

Nature seemingly forsook her duty. The dew of the 
morning fell not or fell victim to the blazing heat of the 
sun. The leaves hung mute on the trees, the roses drooped, 
and the white magnolia shrunk. The tenseness of the heat 
was visible upon every blade of grass. It was summer time 
in the South. 

“The heavens are ablaze, Dixie. Venus is a vast lumina- 
ry,” said Lucille, strolling out on the veranda at the close of 
a hot August day when the night wind blew in from the riv- 
er, cooling the fetid heat with its breath. 

“Look at the fireflies ! They are star beacons on the 
earth. It is a continuous pyrotechnic display,” said Dixie. 
She handed her sister a handful of calycanthus buds, con- 
cluding: “They are the sweetest this year. The hot days 
are necessary for them to perfect the program.” 

Lucille inhaled their fragrance with long draughts, saying : 
“They are perfect incense. If they could be preserved by a 
chemical process, what other perfume would be so choice?” 

“Pack them in the Mexican rose jar, Lucille, and try an 
experiment. Mexicans can retain the fragrance of their 
flowers for years. Why not attempt the same with our ex- 

163 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


otics and obtain the different odors asked our businesslike 
Dixie. 

“You are abundantly able to enter a field of research of 
botanical specimens for perfumes. I shall have mother 
speak to your professor in your favor. Perhaps he will 
desire you to arrange such class progression/" said Lucille 
teasingly to the younger sister. 

“Ah! chere mine, that is the least of my knowledge. If 
you will come with me early in the morning, I will induct 
you into the recesses of the most delectable of these botan- 
ical specimens. There hangs on the boughs of yon fig trees 
the most luscious fruit. The birds have been cavorting in 
the higher branches. I have been watching every morning 
to keep their bills from dipping into the pink-lipped lus- 
ciousness. You bring a basket and the shears, and I will 
climb the trees and cut them. Old Job gave up the job to 
me. He fears that his rheumatic knee has laid him up,” 
said Dixie. 

“And why not preserve them and save mother from work 
these hot days? It will be just the thing to do early in the 
day. We can finish by noon,"" returned Lucille. 

“Yes, but you forget your teaching. Figs have to un- 
dergo a particular process of preserving, like strawberries. 
You lay them in sugar overnight and drain them off daily 
for a week; and the last morning you pour boiling sirup 
over them and seal the jars. You then have a delicacy 
which only the rarest of Eastern preservers know the simple 
secret of."" 

“The supply is double this year. We pruned the branches 
last fall, and it made an increased supply. There were 
many useless sprouts, I observed. Father always attended 
to them so closely. It was one of his lucrative industries,"" 
said Dixie, who was keen in business instinct. 

164 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


‘T wonder why some ingenious woman does not take hold 
of and develop the industry. She could make a handsome 
fortune out of it. The State grows them to perfection. An 
orchard of fig trees would make a woman a millionaire/" 
said the girl partner in her sister"s desire to expand the 
knowledge of products which were lucrative resources. 

“Cotton and com, potatoes and pumpkins, tomatoes and 
onions ! Poor Arkansas ! A gold mine is in the bowels of 
its earth. I should not be surprised if they found diamonds 
in the northwestern part of the State. An expert from St. 
Louis was prospecting there, the News said recently. The 
surrounding territory surely is the proper location for the 
stones. But if they were found, the foolish farmer would 
give them to his children to play marbles with. Why don’t 
they establish in the mine observatory at Washington an 
investigating bureau to overlook every atom of ground in 
America and see what they can discover in the poor lands ?” 
inquired the outraged domestic girl. 

“Every atom of ground is alive with possibility. Our 
fruits would be as prolific as the industries of California if 
they were advertised. We must study the business side of 
our resources. I know that up the St. Francis River there 
are millions of bushels of the largest, sweetest blackberries 
in the world rotting and drying up on the tremendous bushes. 
We simply could have filled tubs with them where we were. 
Wild turkeys roam the forests there, and deer stalked by 
us unconcerned. Wild cherries are plentiful. You know, 
we brought bushels of them home with us. The land is 
seething with opportunities, and most all the beggars are 
whining about the little river towns,” said indignant Lucille. 

“Mother will want to send each of her dear friends a 
basket of these ripe figs, as usual. Let us not tell her. Send 
her away early to-morrow to buy our dresses. The dress- 

i6s 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


maker will be here from Memphis next week to begin your 
wardrobe for next fall, and she had better hurry. Then we 
will preserve the figs and set them away and surprise her 
the last of next week. Shall we?’' asked Dixie. 

“It is the better way. Mother doesn’t know what a jar of 
fig preserves is worth. One quart of fig preserves fresh 
from the bush is worth a dollar and then some,” calculated 
Lucille. “We will let them buy our fresh figs at four dollars 
a bushel and keep up with the New York Trust prices. 
What do you say, Dixie?” 

“It will be a high joke on Southern hospitality to beat 
them just this tiny once. If it gets out, they will call us 
eye openers; and they need to find out. We have world 
harvests here in the South. The peach crop of this State is 
arousing the South in competition. It flooded the market 
at St. Paul last year and took the market at New York. I 
saw the market quotations here at home, pricing peaches at 
sixty-five cents a bushel. I followed the new crop of 
peaches 'from the choice Arkansas region’ at four dollars a 
crate, and a bushel and a half to a crate. Now, what do 
you think of that?” asked Dixie, aroused that she had a 
listener who was as well informed as herself on the trust 
problem. 

“The eyes of the Arkansas farmer are too narrow to see 
the rows between the com. They are buying his prolific 
fields away from him. His warm soil, his alluvial ground is 
as productive as a hotbed. He needs to shake every hayseed 
out of his pile and obtain results from his vineyards. Prices 
must be established. The farmer needs to take a daily paper 
and read it. Education is soil salvation,” said Colonel 
Rochester’s elder daughter. 

“Home products demand home manufacture now. That 
is another leak in the bucket. Exporting is a double ex- 

166 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


pense. Why, when we were in Brussels I could not keep 
from demanding that we begin manufacturing the minute 
we reached home. The world over there is whirling with 
spinning wheels. Every atom of product is turned into 
available substance. They make use of their products as 
father did the cotton seed. Education for enormous re- 
turns is what our dear Southland demands. We should 
manufacture our own supplies, as great Germany does. 
Who could then buy the farms of such opulence?’' said the 
dominant girl of seventeen years, alive with the rush of the 
world’s flying wheel of industry. 

That afternoon Mrs. Rochester was plied with many 
quests for the winter supply of Lucille’s wardrobe. Several 
party dresses were asked for, as Lucille often accompanied 
some of her chums home on Friday afternoons to Philadel- 
phia or Boston and oftener to New York. They must 
necessarily be stunning, as beseemeth a Rochester, espe- 
cially from the South, Lucille coaxed. Her mother smiled 
indulgently and complied, jotting down the items. 

The next morning Mrs. Rochester made ready to shop 
before the sun should get too hot, leaving while the girls 
were sipping coffee. But their mother had barely reached 
the avenue before they had donned their aprons. From a 
dark recess the fruit was brought forth. It was drained 
of its thick juice and placed in a brass preserving kettle and 
boiled and skimmed. It was then replaced in the various 
jars for another steeping for the delectable flavors not dupli- 
cated by nature’s science. 

Every morning that week Mrs. Rochester was obliged to 
shop. The various dresses demanded some other accessory, 
until she was satisfied. The last of the week finally came. 
With mysterious air she was conveyed to the fruit cellar 
and was asked to discover, if she could, anything strange 

167 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


in the cellar. She carefully looked over the fruits, up and 
down, and on a rear shelf, carefully labeled, she saw “Fig 
Preserves.'" 

“Why, girls," she said, looking from one to another, 
“when did you do this? It takes the finest art of the pre- 
server to put up the fruit. Did Charlotte help you?" asked 
their mother. 

“The birds were about to devour them. Dixie and I 
picked them, and you were so busy this week that we pre- 
served them. Charlotte bossed the job. We drained them 
each morning, as you used to do. Mother, they are super- 
fine. Next winter you can sample them with Mrs. Hart," 
Lucille answered, while Dixie shook in her shoes, not from 
fear, but eclipsing her dear mother's anxiety of supplying 
all her friends with fresh fig delicacies. 

“The reins are passing from my hands, I guess. There 
is not a fig left for Mrs. Hart. She naturally expects to 
receive her annual supply. I must apologize for my two 
industrious girls. Her children are all boys, and their father 
takes charge of them. Well, it is all done now. I shall 
watch another year. We must not become niggard in our 
measure, or it will be meted to us again," she complained. 

“Dixie," called Lucille, “we are going for a flatboat ride 
on the river. If any of your chums wish to go, get them 
word as you go riding this morning. Jake is going to fiddle. 
Mother and Mrs. Robbins will be chaperons. The moon- 
light is glorious. The packet will meet us at Friar's Point 
and bring us back. Would you like to accompany us?" 

“I am not negligent of an invitation such as this. It 
savors of the romantic. I speedily avail myself of its dear 
opportunity," Dixie replied, making from her horse a sweep- 
ing bow with her green riding cap. “We young folks will 
accelerate our acceptance with watermelons in addition to 

i68 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


your excellent menu. Is there anything you wish from the 
city?” 

“No ; our hampers are homemade. These fig cakes form 
a component part,” said Lucille, smiling up at Dixie on re- 
membering their fruit escapade. “That delicious chicken 
salad mother sent to the hospital has been duplicated. Was 
she not nice to us ?” asked her sister. 

“Mother can’t be beat on chicken salad. Did she make a 
gallon ?” asked Dixie, to be sure that the young people would 
all enjoy her mother’s salad. 

“Yes, and a lot of other goodies. There are sweet pickles 
for you, saucebox. Hurry, now, and get up the party. Ten 
more will be enough,” replied Lucille, dismissing Dixie. 
But, running back hastily, she called down the driveway: 
“Dixie, find Jean and tell him to have the floor of the flat- 
boat scoured. We used it on our last ride playing shinny.” 

“Ah, shinny!” Dixie said, raising her eyebrows loftily. 
“I will inform mother that you are a hoyden. When you 
return to Vassar it will get out, and no one will notice you. 
You know Phil Sheridan never keeps a secret. Shame on 
you, the first young lady of our beloved city to enter Vas- 
sar I” said the teasing Dixie. 

“O, go along, Dixie I Perhaps you never played shinny. 
We girls play every winter on skates at the rink, and much 
more on the Hudson every Saturday. You are far behind 
the times,” replied Lucille as she closed the door and went 
back to filling her baskets for the picnic supper on the flat- 
boat. 

It was a classical trip down the illustrious Mississippi 
River. It far excelled Leander’s swim of the Hellespont. 
The moonlight lent her most absorbing rays to the deep- 
flowing tide, which was like some vast, glittering Saraha 
sweeping away crystal sands as the molten mass lay practi- 

169 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


cally undisturbed in its undercurrent’s flow. The vast can- 
opy of the southern sky was flecked with starlight, giving 
a panorama visible only in the latitude which lays its dis- 
tinctive lines below the parallel of the Mason and Dixon line. 
It was a brilliant horoscope of the midnight sky envied by 
the northern boundary of sister States. Down this im- 
mense plateau of water floated the barge of the new day 
with its picturesque lanterns depending along its sides. Mu- 
sic floated from its deck, along with laughter and the sound 
of revelry. On and on the flatboat floated, past twinkling 
lights, past farmhouses lying far back on the hills. People 
in skiffs came out to do them honor. Halloos came inter- 
mittently from the banks of the levees. Past all they floated, 
bound for Friar’s Point. The girls, all dressed in white, 
danced far into the night. The party partook of the deli- 
cious lunch, prepared with so much taste and skill, and 
feasted royally. The packet picked them up at eleven 
o’clock and towed them back to the city. 

“It was my terminal party, Dixie. No more will you and 
I eat at the same picnic or dance in the same boat. And this 
is my last year at Vassar,” Lucille said as the two girls 
sat for a moment on the upper veranda, cooling off before 
retiring. “Mother said that if the returns from the sugar 
plantations were good she would take us both to Germany 
next year. Won’t it be great to have mother with us? It 
will be home then.” 

“We should never leave mother alone. Your music calls 
you to Leipsic, and my course calls me to Berlin. What are 
we to do about that ?” Dixie asked. 

“We are both going to Berlin. Mother and I have decided 
that it is the superior opportunity. The Royal Conservatory 
is there, too, and my chance there for oratorios and concerts 
is better.” 


170 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The dressmaker spent six weeks making the dresses of 
the elder daughter, all the ladies spending the better part of 
the day assisting and learning the art of the modiste. In the 
heat of the afternoons the visitor from Memphis retired to 
her room or joined the family at some game, or, if the 
weather was not too hot, they went driving. But Lucille's 
trunks were finally packed and strapped. 

The next day Lucille left for Vassar. She went to 
Memphis on the night boat and there took a train for New 
York, leaving the home to fall back into its wonted quiet. 
Mrs. Rochester was lonely and walked about the house as 
if she had lost something. 

“Have you lost something, mother? Can’t you find it? 
Did you lay it down somewhere and forget where you put 
it? Don’t you remember at all, mother?” Dixie asked. 

Dixie persuaded her mother to go horseback-riding on 
Scylla, her favorite horse. Every morning Mrs. Rochester 
would ride by the high-school building and look toward the 
school to see if Dixie was in sight. Dixie returned from 
school at two o’clock and made the hours slip away gayly. 
Often the two would walk down to the river bank to see if 
the boathouse was intact and the skiff in good shape; and 
if the day was fair and the wind low, they would lift the 
mast and set the sail to the breeze, skimming the water like 
some renowned cutter. They also rowed together. Mrs. 
Rochester could handle oars almost as well as Dixie. The 
craft was painted white, with the name “Dixie” in gold let- 
ters. Russell, who was very skillful with the brush, had 
painted the boat and made the letters. Dixie had won many 
a race and kept the cup several years, holding it for speed 
over all her friends. 

171 


XIV. 

THE CALL OF DIXIE. 

Golden days of the South — days of power and days of 
challenge ! The South then flies her banners of progress to 
the commercial world. In September the tide of exporting 
begins, and it continues all day long until the deep mud 
clogs the roadways. In December days the tide is yet un- 
diminished. The river ports, with the lowest produce rates, 
catch the exports — unless it is perishable freight, and then 
the railroads necessarily handle it. 

The Northern broker had been for weeks in the South, 
bargaining for fall fruits, crops of standing grain, or the 
output of unnumbered acres of potatoes, the mammoth size 
of which yet remains unduplicated in view in the city mar- 
kets. 

The black loamy soil of the Arkansas Valley produces 
rare varieties of mealy sweet potatoes and Irish potatoes. 
These were usually sold for fifty cents a bushel in the 
early autumn, doubling that price in the winter. The trusts 
soared them to the tip of the beam in enormous salvage, 
crying through the North the produce of the State : '‘Here 
are your delicious Arkansas sweet potatoes. Here is the 
potato of the earth. There is no potato just so sweet and 
mealy. The famous Arkansas potato. Here, Arkansas po- 
tatoes!'' On and on they holloed, peddling the market 
stores of the vast alluvial region upon which nature has 
prodigally expended her most sanguine efforts to obtain the 
brand of the earth. The unwary farmer had wholesaled his 
potatoes as low as thirty cents a bushel. 

172 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Cotton waved her white flag as the prize trophy of her 
borders. The fall export from Arkansas reached her mil- 
lions of bales of fleecy down. It was shipped to the Eastern 
world. There it was manufactured into the dainty fabric 
that milady enjoys so much, incidentally thinking that it 
came from far-away Egypt or India, or that the looms of 
Germany or France wove it. 

Dear sister, it was grown in the much-despised State of 
Arkansas. And because of the particular finish which the 
cotton of that State develops when manufactured, it excels 
all others in delicacy of finished weaves. The big stern- 
wheel boats lay at the wharfs for days, loading their decks 
to the guards, until the windows and doors were all lost 
behind the stacked bales and bales of cotton. The side- 
wheel liners picked up the remainder, until the water was 
almost up to her lower decks. 

Helena was the shipping port of this vast outlying re- 
gion. It grew larger year by year, and it increased its 
facilities for handling the export. Several railroads ter- 
minated at this point of vantage. As an agricultural State 
her quickly-ripened grains, fruits, and vegetables demanded 
immediate exportation. The competition between river and 
railroad service seesawed, each getting a divided share of 
patronage. Larger than the State of New York, Arkansas 
drained her resources to obtain a standard second to none 
in the sisterhood of States in the prodigality of the Southern 
soil. 

Here Arkansas ended her march. The turn of the wheel 
of manufacture was given over to the known world, which 
impoverished her of her rich resources and took her prod- 
ucts and doubled their values. It increased the opulent, far- 
seeing North, filching stores by the ignorance of the farmer. 
World markets formed a pool, doubling the first price, and 

173 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


soared the prices to the true value of the market of the trusts 
of New York City. 

The hotels were doing a tremendous business. The cotton 
buyer was in the city; the fruit exporter was in the city; the 
Northern broker, close-mouthed, close-visaged, a miser, was 
in the city. 

Lines and lines of wagons passed through every road lead- 
ing to the cotton yards. The top of the levee was banked 
with freight for export. Gleaming sides showed mellowed 
golden pears and ruddy apples. There were watermelons, 
heavy with luscious red meat, in piles and boxes. Canta- 
loupes of golden richness sent out a rare odor of luscious 
fruit. Peaches were the most prolific of the shipment. 
Hundreds of boxes of them were stacked up awaiting the 
steamer. Engagements throughout the North and West 
sent daily the fresh Arkansas goods to a buying market. 
The stamp of the noted Arkansas shippers was sufficient and 
suggestive. 

The advantage of locating Mississippi River cities was the 
most inferior. The lowlands offered no security from over- 
flow. From Cincinnati to New Orleans but few large cities 
lay, except on the Ohio River. From St. Paul to New Or- 
leans there were fewer cities. St. Louis was the only 
metropolis on the Mississippi. The stream flowing from 
Lake Itasca to the Gulf should have fifty mammoth metrop- 
olises. The territory could support such in its matchless 
advantages. The '‘Bluff City,” as Memphis is called, was 
protected; but Helena was devastated as often as yellow 
fever swept over the South — in fact, it was a breeder of 
the fatal malady, and it usually occurred after one of these 
overflows. 

Devastated properties were deserted year after year fol- 
lowing the ravages of the river. After repeated efforts in 

174 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


defending the land of undoubted resources, the farmer lost 
courage and moved to higher and healthier locations, free 
from the diseases which followed inundation. The city resi- 
dent followed the example of the farmer. He, too, packed 
his goods and moved. The older residents remained, ob- 
stinately building new levees each year. There were no 
governmental standards yet established for controlling the 
river. 

Each year since Columbia had sent her flag to the crest 
of the ship of State and made her brag to the world of 
maritime power, millions have been expended on the 
great military sea dogs. Even to Panama she had gone to 
increase her facility for a quick entrance to the Eastern 
subject if Asiatic waters began a commotion. Here and 
there throughout her expanse some invidious object ab- 
stracted from her coffers a more worthy demand than con- 
fining the waters of the imperial channel to a proper and 
safe confine. It was an undertaking too stupendous for 
Uncle Sam. It was a legislative breakdown. It was tabooed 
in the supreme dictation of the mighty solons, and it dared 
not lift its hand of appeal. The blemished escutcheon of 
tribunal laid the bill on the table to weigh the more impor- 
tant matter of raising annually the already-high tariff. 

What need is there of burning midnight oratory to make 
secure the millions of homes of the Mississippi River farm- 
er, the staff of an empire? 

In the gladness of the early September morning Dixie 
Rochester tripped back to the schoolhouse, her heart sing- 
ing with the gladness of the day. It was to be her last year 
in school. Again in the schoolroom, she went up to her 
professor to welcome him. 

*'Good morning, Professor Savage. How glad I am to 
welcome you back to the city ! Has your stay in the Old 

U5 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


World been all you anticipated? And shall you expect us 
now to do wonderful feats in furthering new lines?’' asked 
Dixie. 

“Dixie, my child, are you here so early?” the Professor 
replied as he eagerly extended his hand. “Yes, my trip was 
a wonderful uplift to me and as much so to my wife. I am 
glad to return to you again and to try new ideas on the pu- 
pils. The spirit of promulgation was never so marked as it 
is now. The scientists have made the closest deductions. 
Electrical power is making the new day. The Old-World 
laboratories are aglitter with a mass of electrical ingenuity. 
All lines were investigated, including a laboratory for the 
chemistry class and a telescope of unusual power for our 
astronomy. I met the chief of all men, Flammarian, at the 
academy in Paris. Such a vivid personality has not been on 
the platform of action, except the great Dumas. He stirred 
me to my depths with an address two hours long. He 
could see the course of the stars. In his hands the constel- 
lations were as marbles in the hands of a boy. He is mar- 
velous,” said the fine man who was giving his time and 
thought to the building of a basic structure for the genera- 
tions of the environed city. 

“Those were my father’s wishes, and you have surmount- 
ed the whole. All lines are included. The laggard South 
will send her sons and daughters to the nation’s borders to 
ameliorate the conditions of a slothful populace. The need 
of the South is to establish colleges. The land is sending 
her gifted scholars into the East to arouse their latent brains. 
The hotbed of the product awakes, intensifies, and pushes. 
Import machinery to the propagating supply; it will be 
world-supporting,” said the defiant Dixie. 

“I know it is true, my child. I was for years in Cam- 
bridge, Mass., as a professor; and stimulation was the de- 

176 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


cree, or no school. Here the children are like the fruits of 
your soil ; it is impossible to keep the matter from growing 
and reaching mammoth proportions. We must import 
schools to both, as you say, or lose the whole. The South 
is a valuable portion of America, and it needs protection.’’ 

The bell rang several times, and the pupils filed into the 
auditorium. The new addition to the school embraced suf- 
ficient area for all the additional classes. Dixie took her 
seat, as usual, by the window that faced the north. The 
building had been extended on the north side, occupying 
part of the space formerly purchased for use as a play- 
ground. Now the massive building was an elegant white 
stone structure, and it gave an added delight to the students, 
encouraging their better efforts. 

All through her school days Dixie had sat by a north win- 
dow in the school building ; and now she took her books and 
laid them on her new desk in the new addition and began 
her studies. Her attention was attracted to the road, which 
she could see from her desk. The road was lined with 
wagons piled high with cotton. Each year she had watched 
the road, and each year the number of wagons increased. 
Many, of course, were filled with vegetables; but cotton 
was the king of the products, and it filled almost every wag- 
on that passed. 

As the stream of wagons continued, Dixie began musing. 
''Who is weighing the cotton? Last year father did. But 
who is weighing the bales now?” The thought seethed 
through the mind of the girl. "Who is receiving the cotton 
at the yards? My father is not there; my brother is not 
there. What is the need of my being in school, anyway? 
Why can’t I go and weigh the cotton and take father’s 
place? When father weighed it, every bale received the 
closest scrutiny; every bale went through a crucible test. 

177 


12 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


His weight was critical and was never questioned. No 
other broker ever opened an office and made a living in the 
city. The planters all brought their cotton to father. He 
gave just weight to both negro and prince, and they knew it. 
The business will suffer loss.'' 

Dixie quickly decided that she would take her father’s 
place. She arose to ask to be excused, holding her books 
in her arms. Just then the recess bell struck. 

Her professor came straight down the isle to her desk, 
saying: “Dixie, your seat is rather close to the window. I 
would change it. You will ruin your recitations if you 
worry.” 

“I must go and weigh the cotton. Professor. I must go 
and do my father’s work. There is no one to open the 
yards, and the farmers are waiting. I must go to them 
and do my father’s work,” replied Dixie as she started into 
the hall to get her hat. 

The Professor followed her. Laying his hand on her arm, 
he said: “Dixie, my child, you must finish your school. 
There are able men to take charge of the work, others who 
can do his work. All your ambitions, all your enthusiasm 
are needed in the woman’s field. You must prepare to claim 
the advantages which your mind demands.” 

“It is impossible. Professor. My family has no one else 
to do this work. It has always been father’s line of work, 
and his daughter can fill his place. I inherited my father’s 
love of commercial life. It is a woman’s heritage from a 
father. I can fill it. When I kept his books for him on 
Saturdays, I often weighed the cotton while father stood 
by. Nothing can keep me from filling my father’s place,” 
said the girl. 

“Womanhood finds its own setting, Dixie. I must not 
deliberate your call of fate. Your masculine nature is a 

178 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


strong inheritance from a dominant father. If the world 
did not laugh, I would say, ‘Go and weigh the cotton, Dixie, 
and succeed, as you surely will.' " 

“Ah ! Professor, let them laugh. It is my father's voice 
that is calling me. The South never allows its women to 
enter business lines. . They are sacred to the home, art, 
music, and the adornment of the mind. All lines of her 
sphere are open; but if the fatal line is crossed, it is fatal 
to her country's good. To debar her is to send her as a pau- 
per to the poorhouses of her nation. It would be better 
for her to wake up and see her wealth groveling at her feet. 
Woman was meant to occupy and control. I am a woman 
of the century of aggression. Long ago the world laughed 
at woman for entering man's lines, but her inherited ability 
knocked down the doors which that small conception closed. 
She is a part of the divine plan. All history opened doors 
which she has filled with her power and ability. Queen 
Victoria was in a line of destiny. She has filled her position 
far beyond any king's reign for centuries. Woman is in the 
line of her father's descent. Is man greater than the plan 
of the Creator?" replied Dixie to the Professor's idea of the 
world's say. 

“Ask your mother's consent. If she desires you to take 
your father's place, do so. You have fine business instincts, 
as radiant a casket as any man. Burnish its jewels and suc- 
ceed, as your father did," replied the Professof. 

“Many a race horse takes the pennant, masculine and fem- 
inine. I shall enter the race for life’s supremacy. No hab- 
its cloy, seep, or hamper. Good-by. Come to see me at 
the cotton yards," said the determined Dixie. 

About an hour after Dixie's departure for school Mrs. 
Rochester received a telegram from New Orleans. It read : 

179 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Sugar shipment in. Can get thirty thousand dollars for it. Will 
you accept? Swift & Jameson, Brokers. 

Mrs. Rochester touched the call bell and summoned Job : 
“Have the carriage ready directly after lunch, Job. An 
important telegram from New Orleans takes me down to the 
city. We will go by for Dixie first, as I wish to see her 
before I decide what to do.'^ 

The darky bowed his head in acquiescence to her request 
and backed out at the door. He went to the stables, put 
an extra shine on the glossy grays, and overhauled the 
carriage until it assumed a more satisfactory appearance, 
according to his demand of the equipage driven by the 
Rochesters. 

Soon after the carriage reached the high-school entrance 
Dixie ran lightly down the steps, holding her hat in one 
hand, her books stacked on her other arm, and entered the 
carriage. 

“What is up, mother? Anything unusual?’^ she inquired. 

When Mrs. Rochester showed Dixie the telegram, she ex- 
claimed delightedly : “Good ! Good ! Mother, it is fine news. 
Will you accept their offer?” 

“It far exceeds my most sanguine figure. It is extra for 
the second year's development. If you think it is so good, 
we had better accept it. Did you notice the quotations last 
night and this morning? What was sugar?” 

“They have treated you fair, mother. It is all right ; you 
had better take it. The price goes up and down, up and 
down. By to-morrow it may be lower if a drag comes in 
the market. It is of a high grade,” said the intelligent young 
girl, who always studied the quotation sheet to keep the 
sharks from hlching them. 


i8o 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Well, then, we must hurry. Perhaps I should have an- 
swered the telegram early this morning.'’ 

Mrs. Rochester pulled the latchstring and motioned for 
the coachman to whip up his horses. They drove direct to 
the telegraph office, and she sent the following telegram to 
the brokers’ headquarters : 

I accept your offer. Send check by first mail. 

Mrs. Rochester. 

Judge Hart met them as they drove past his office. He 
was coming down the steps, and he raised his hat in his 
courtly way. Mrs. Rochester pulled the latchstring and 
told Job to stop. The Judge drew close to the carriage. She 
acquainted him with the sale of the consignment. 

“I congratulate you upon the high figure that you ob- 
tained. The quotations may change if a drag comes in the 
market. It is the highest price that sugar has been quoted 
for several years. You are almost a millionaire,” said the 
Judge. 

Mrs. Rochester was so pleased at her business success and 
at the figure her sugar plantation had netted her that she 
remarked to her daughter: “It is a most profitable invest- 
ment. If I had not promised Lucille that I would go with 
her to Berlin next year, I would go to Brazil with Russell. 
He is going to look after the investment.” 

“All right, mother. Do as you like best. Brother said that 
he was going to see what irrigation was open, as he was 
going to apply for a place on the corps of engineers. Go, 
mother, if you like. It would be a great trip for you. Fa- 
ther promised to take you to spend the winter after the cot- 
ton season vras over. Mother, to-day I had a distinct call to 
go and take charge of father’s yards. It would have been 
impossible to stifle it. While at school I watched wagons 

i8i 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


pass piled high with cotton. You know I have always 
sat by the north window. I see every wagon that conies 
from the agricultural lands north of town. Twice as 
many are passing by this year as did last year. I watched 
the line of wagons and could not keep my eyes off of it. 
Suddenly I felt constrained to go and weigh the cotton, as 
I had seen father do. Father is not there, and brother is 
back in school. Who is weighing the cotton? The farmers 
are waiting for father or some one to open the yards. So 
I thought that I must go. I arose in my seat to be excused, 
when the Professor came down the aisle and said : *Dixie, 
you must change your seat. You will spoil your recita- 
tions.’ I told him that I was called to go and weigh the 
cotton. We debated the question of the fitness of woman 
doing a man’s work. Mother, will you give me the keys to 
the cotton yards and let me receive and weigh the cotton in 
father’s place?” asked the excited girl. 

Dixie, if I had known that you were called by your 
father’s spirit to engage in the commercial interests of the 
South, I should have given you the keys to the yards long 
before this. Your instincts are commercial. Your father 
said that you comprehended business matters with an under- 
standing unusual even for a man. Your ambitions are com- 
mercial. By right of birth you have the hereditary instinct 
from your father. But, Dixie, about a month ago I rented 
the yards to Mr. Merrill and gave him a lease for ten years. 
As father intended, Mr. Merrill said he would doubtless 
build a cotton manufactory within a couple of months. I 
am very sorry, Dixie. The cotton yards should never have 
passed from the hands of the Rochesters.” 

“Yes, and you knew that the spirit of the daughter fol- 
lowed the father’s heart. Social customs bind v^oman to 
heathen sacrifice of the vital business interests of the South. 

182 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The lack o£ inheriting her sphere makes her open to inter- 
national marriages with carpet knights who squander her 
good millions (which America needs to develop its oppor- 
tunities and build railroads) for a necklace for some actress 
he has met as a star. Then my lady of the golden shield is 
in a wasp’s nest and is stung to death by the perfidious 
knave. Woman must fill the destiny that she is meant to 
fill or waste her life as water in the sink of the world.” 

183 


XV. 

THE OVERFLOW. 


Life passed uneventfully forward, and winter fell again 
on the South. From the first days of the season bad weath- 
er came and continued. Snows fell continuously and lay 
unmelted for weeks, the thermometer falling to zero. Only 
when spring blew its first breath over the South did any per- 
ceptible change occur, and then rain began falling intermit- 
tently. The newspapers reported similar conditions all along 
the river. The rainy season had settled down, and the down- 
pour of rain continued. 

In the early spring the snow began melting in the moun- 
tains. The Appalachian Range, the Cumberland Mountains, 
and the Rocky Mountains all began filling the rivers. The 
Ohio River was the first to get out of its banks. The con- 
joined rivers at Pittsburgh felt the rise in its tributaries, 
and the Cumberland and Tennessee Rivers sent their swollen 
bulks toward the parent stream. The Upper Mississippi 
River had become a torrent. The Des Moines River was 
sending her navigable stream from the city of its name over 
a rich agricultural land, inundating much valuable platted 
city property and towering onward to its outlet. That 
massive tributary, the Missouri River, with its confluent 
streams, threw its waters into the swirling mass, which crept 
up into the streets of St. Louis far beyond her river front, 
making unseemly conditions. Paducah and Cairo were 
flooded, water several feet deep running over the cities. 
People were moving to higher lands, fleeing before the com- 
ing water, which the river’s banks could not contain. The 
deluge was passing south. Memphis, high on her bluffs, 

184 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


escaped. Now the water was rising ten feet a day on a 
defenseless bottom land. Guards were walking the levees, 
every few miles meeting their mates and calling the condi- 
tion of the river. Helena met her ravager blossoming with 
budding flowers and vegetables ready for the market. She 
was in her fresh spring dress. Fear reigned in every heart. 
Not for twenty-five years had the weather conditions been 
so unfavorable. The avalanches on the mountains were 
unprecedented; and the regular rainy season, adding slush 
and mud, pressed down upon the people, daunting the mpst 
fearless. 

But onward came the mighty tide, now like some giant 
swallowing prey. Everything was swirling past the city. 
Houses, boats, and coal barges, unloosed by some floe and 
filled with black diamonds, kept swiftly running the gauntlet. 
No one dared the swift currents to attempt rescue. Loos- 
ened rafts of sawlogs swept past, fine specimens of timber, 
perhaps from the Cumberlands, or massive monarchs from 
the Rockies. 

The rain ceased not. The ground became soft and por- 
ous, sinking against the terrible packing of water. The 
levees began falling in great chunks and were constantly 
caving in. The cities along the river were going under. The 
newspapers reaching them by train said that even Little 
Rock, sitting on a bluff, was assailed. 

At Helena all hope was lost. The citizens deserted the 
town. Every available thing was moved to West City. 
Barges and vans filled with household goods constituted a 
continuous stream to the hills. Negroes fled panic-stricken 
to the high ground, leaving their patch of grain, chickens, 
and stock to drown. The settler took his family upon a 
train and looked not back to his home. His grain was swim- 
ming in the bottom lands, which were his pride. The ma- 

185 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


jestic river ascended to the top of the levee and seeped un- 
derneath it. At last a big crevasse fell in with a tremendous 
crash, like the booming of a cannon. Water poured through 
the breach like a towering river. Thousands of sacks of 
sawdust and thousands of sacks filled with sand given by the 
citizens of Helena stood ready for the emergency. This but 
aggravated the “Father of Waters,” who was vast in his 
uplifted strength. The space widened and spread, and the 
levee went down. Doom was there and awaited not its prey. 
The overflow swept through the white paved streets, filled 
palatial homes, sank cellar-deep in stores, covered yards of 
magnificent blooming plants, and went beyond into the agri- 
cultural country, overflowing thousands of acres of grain 
seeded for harvest. 

Back on the hills Col. Russell Rochester had built his 
residence, as did also many others of the far-sighted resi- 
dents of the river cities, knowing the treachery of the Mis- 
sissippi River. As she had always done, Mrs. Rochester 
watched the river come creeping slowly up its banks. Its 
horror had often chilled the blood in her veins. Knowing 
from years of experience the danger that was ahead, she did 
not wait to see the Gulf spread its jaw upon a defenseless 
people. With Dixie, she had for several days assisted the 
negroes and poor whites to shelter. She opened the cabins 
on Rochester Place and brought up the stores of scanty 
furnishings to make habitable a home for them. The house 
was filled with friends escaping the flood from homes down 
in the business portion, where many handsome residences 
were. Bounty was hers. She lavished it with unstinted 
hand. But not she alone was bountiful. The heart of the 
Southland waited not ; it flung wide its spacious portals and 
made people comfortable without price or condition. 

The last of April the swollen expanse, having run out 

i86 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the waters of its length to the lakes, became normal. The 
boil of its fetid fever, reduced under nature’s wise admin- 
istration, lessened its inner perturbation and gradually as- 
sumed its former appearance of a flowing stream between 
banks regulated by geographical surveys. Men now went 
every day in skiffs, measuring the depth of the water in their 
front yards, where their choicest shrubbery stood, perched- 
up crests in the unwilling bath, asking: “Are the towels 
ready?” Corn stood knee-deep in the swamps. Nature in 
tears had prostrated every living thing in the night of its 
disorder. But the waters subsided, leaving over all the face 
of mundane affairs its yellow mud, which now readily baked 
in the sun’s rays. The flood had left its watermark halfway 
up some of the residences; the stores felt the indignity 
even more, their cellars being filled with water; the stal- 
wart trees waned sickly in the plunge, submitting their ap- 
parel to a rough bathing to decrease the untoward appear- 
ance of yellow substance on their handsome trunks; fences 
and barns' were doubtless still bounding on the Gulf. 

Excavation of the river’s surplus refuse began. A street- 
cleaning process commenced, every inhabitant giving horses, 
carts, and wagons in surrender to the demand of immediate 
protection ere the heat ruined the health of the city. The 
white asphalt streets were covered with a yellow mass of 
loathsome wreckage, like some street of Herculaneum after 
Vesuvius had sent her black lava to usurp the work of peer- 
less man. Papering and repainting began. The planter came 
to town to repurchase seeds. He reported the terrible suffer- 
ing along the Iron Mountain Railroad. The tracks had sunk 
and in places were buried several feet beneath the mud, 
which had caked. Farmers had lost all their stock. Many 
people had perished. The tale the planter bore was of dev- 
astation and ruin. Many others came, too, to buy seed 

187 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


to replace corn and other planted grain ; and these repeated 
the story until a mighty petition outgrew demanding redress 
from Congress, that the cotton planter be saved from the 
further ravages of overflow, else the industries of the Mis- 
sissippi River be lost from the page of commercial power. 

Dixie Rochester's school days were hardly finished. Each 
morning skiffs brought the pupils to the high school. They 
floated in Venetian style through the streets, determined, if 
possible, to conclude the remaining school year. In erecting 
the school building the wise trustees and many others de- 
manded that its height and depth be of equal proportion. 
There it sat in stone, a portentous edifice, rearing its struc- 
ture aloft, unmolested by the overflow. Dixie often called 
it “Our Castle in the Air." It made true its name when the 
river dashed up against its invulnerable walls. 

The winter routine had been filled with new lines of work. 
Many experiments occurred in the laboratory. The lecture 
course attracted notable thinkers, who had opened new mat- 
ters of thought before the hungiy-eyed students. The new 
equipment of modem appliances doubled the interest in the 
stale matter previously dished out with obsolete style. The 
work pushed forward beneath the radiating influence of 
stimulation. 

It was a Cyclopean effort to attain class standards. Tro- 
jan efforts made a huge drain on the unsophisticated stu- 
dent, leaving a perceptible physical demolishment. Dixie's 
class had laid aside Homer's “Iliad," with its backs worn to 
shreds. Many battles of ancient days had wrought up 
mighty warfare. They had finished the last French reading 
in March, with creditable marking for the translation of Mo- 
liere's “School of Woman." The astronomy and geometry 
classes took the students' hearts, pouring oil of intrinsic 
power and illuminating the abstruse. 

i88 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


'‘Mariam Prince/' cried ecstatic Dixie, “I have it! That 
dry bone of a slated crust is vivifying with life. I will even- 
tually make the dead see." 

“And walk, Dixie Rochester," answered Mariam. “If 
all the world fails, you will still be at work. Analyze the 
theorem before the school. I am your willing slave for life. 
You win your battle by perseverance." 

“The cocoon has grown to a butterfly and is preparing to 
spread its wings," the Professor said during the last days 
of school. “The cell is bursting. Glimpses of bright-col- 
ored wings tinge the outer casement of its web — gaudy 
wings, arrogant wings, so few brown and pink-tipped wings. 
Many flights will be made into the far blue ether; many 
tree tops will be crested with the airy endeavor; many a 
rose leaf will they alight upon and sip the sweets of its ex- 
quisite fragrance; many will be caught and pinioned on the 
vivisectionist's pad for study into its galaxy of colors; 
many will daunt the day and soar away into fields new and 
beautiful. The perfect finish is mine. I will open the 
doors of the cocoon for the butterfly to ascend into fair 
and varied fields of beauty, making another world glad and 
its colors brighter. But the wings let loose must not dip 
in the soil or cloy with disuse. They must not descend to 
the mud of the earth. They must at last soar away into the 
eternal." 

The several prizes were awarded. Celia Weinlaub took 
the Latin course prize, which was a copy of Shakespeare's 
complete works; Jacob Fink took the prize in the business 
course, a Remington typewriter (he had the highest grade 
in the school) ; and Dixie won the prize in the classical 
course, which was a marble bust of Tasso. 

189 


XVI. 

A PROPOSAL. 


“Mariam Prince,” cried Dixie, “I have an out-and-out 
proposal. Not one of those half-hearted, mumbled affairs 
of a wearied knight surfeited with love-making, but a dar- 
ing proposal, like some knight of old on bended knee — high 
grade for the century when nothing is real and true as it 
was when Romeo loved Juliet and told her so outright. 
Ah ! Mariam, it is sweet. Listen while I read it to you.” 

“Read it? Why, that is but half a proposal. If he actual- 
ly gets down on his knees and does the thing in the right 
fashion, I would call it a kraight, out-and-out proposal. 
But read it if that is a modest man's way ; feeling his way, 
let me hear what he can do, anyway,” Mariam replied, dis- 
gusted. 

“Wait till I tell you about it. Yesterday morning Scylla 
and I went for a ride along the Marianna Road; the day 
was so fine, you know. She had been cooped up so long 
from the effects of the flood. We were gone until about 
noon, and the day was scorching hot when we came slowly 
up the driveway. I brought her through the shrubbery to eat 
a bit of grass, and stood holding the bridle when mother came 
through the veranda and called me, holding up a letter, 
stamped, Mariam, with the crest of the house of Summer. 
The Lord of England has requested the hand of the daugh- 
ter of the house of Rochester in marriage. Now what do 
you think of that?” inimitably interrogated this selfsame 
daughter. 

“I think, just as usual, that your birth star gave you as- 
cendancy over all of us and more, Dixie Rochester: you 
make it shine,” her chum asserted. 

190 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“I never — it broke out in spots, which pleases not my 
fastidious taste. This matter, father long ago said, was not 
to bother me at all. Lord Summer, as I long ago told you, 
is the loveliest man on earth and, Mariam, solid gold in 
character. But, Mariam, the English are not to my liking. 
Ascendancy is my mark in a man — toil, labor, reach, attain- 
ment — then he becomes what a man was intended to be, a 
plan of the ages. Old England prefers gold badges and 
epaulettes ; America demands men.'' 

“We carve them out of the rounds in ladder-climbing. 
They are not born at the top like the English, furnishing de- 
funct, unexistent shirt front, diamond-studded parcels to our 
heiresses. What does the Lord say?" 

“I feel like I am some Parian marble statue, a Tasso. No 
mortal ever had such a composition of intrinsic clays con- 
stituting anatomy. I am a peculiar brand of flesh. Am I 
like any other girl that you know ?" questioned Dixie. 

“You are entirely too good for the English. Their nation 
does not fight since the Revolution. Guile is their arms. 
What spider web are they throwing across your independent 
head to be absorbed and lost? Steer thy craft far from the 
shores of Charybdis, neither on the rocks of Scylla alight. 
Thy birth star is thy destiny," said her loving friend. 

“Yes, we two friends are agreed. In the veins of my 
knight flows the blood of the Bruces. Lest I neglect so dear 
a strain, I shall not exact from the English the Shylock 
share. I must keep the loved tie of friendship on my string 
of pearls, of this estimable scion of the house of Summer. 
Tell me, friend, out of the inestimable wisdom of a seer, 
how to do the thing scientifically," said the girl. 

Her friend spoke out of an American heart in response 
to Dixie's appeal: “So close a student of the human heart 
need not invoke my aid. Tact is a composition of the 

191 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


French school, of which you are so adroit a part. You 
hardly need be assisted in necromancy's art. Put the man 
to work, Dixie. Tell him you are straining every nerve of 
your Roman soul to wear the wreath-of-empires crown as 
the laurel of attainment. Then tell of your law course 
mapped out and of your determination to release your na- 
tion from bondage. Inspire him, my chere ami, to endeavor. 
Read the letter, Dixie. It may throw light on the subject.” 

“Beachcroft Castle, London, England, May lo, 1883. 
“Miss Dixie Rochester. 

"'Dear Loved Friend: Your dear letters reach me seldom; yet I 
refrain from reproving you, knowing that the dear days of school 
life absorb you. Yet amid the delight of this attainment it seems 
necessary to invade the sacred privacy to ask your permission to 
come to America and to the happy Southland to see again the face 
which draws me to your side. Its insistence it is impossible to sub- 
due. Day and night the buoyant life attracts me. The independence 
of the girl speaks above the roar of the world about me, calling ever 
to my heart to obey its insistence and reach you, claim you, take you 
away from the world which will absorb you and leave me to gnaw 
at the roots of my desire. Dixie, I love you. The first glimpse of 
the fluttering dress on the seashore climbing the white cliffs, with 
your hat falling back from your head, lying on the mass of curling 
auburn hair, took my heart. It is gone forever. And the days by 
the sea. Ah ! child, they are ever with me. I go over and over the 
rapture of listening to you and watching you. The few letters are 
tantalizing scraps of a great whole which dares me to ask for en- 
tirety. I am coming, Dixie. Respond immediately and tell me that 
you hid the secret from me for a while until school days were 
through. The girl has matured into a woman. You always were a 
woman, Dixie ; but you kept it from taking the youth by arts of child- 
hood’s desire of playing on the flowered carpet which increased my 
love, which now awaits you and brooks no halt to its claim. Answer 
me quickly, Dixie, that I may cross the water which separates me 
from all on earth to me. Ernest Archibald Summer.” 


"Dixie, Dixie, what have you won out of the great world? 

192 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


That man is too grand for you to trifle with. I never in my 
life read so beautiful a letter. He is a lover I should wor- 
ship. No woman could refuse such love as that. It sweeps 
me off my feet. It takes my heart, whether I will or not. 
What will you do with such a love torrent ? It rages to its 
height,’' her friend said. 

“Get a skiff and row out, Mariam Prince. What is a 
letter? Is that the way you meet such matters ? Wear your 
heart on your sleeve if you like. I don’t love this Lord of 
England, and his fair mesh of colors takes not my fancy or 
my heart. Years at the Court of St. James, he has learned 
all arts. It is easy to court an unsophisticated American 
girl. But the lion of the English must roar in my ears be- 
fore the blood of the Putnams lifts gun to her shoulders to 
speak of the duty of her nation to the avowed enemy of our 
nation. We wield breastplates of iron to defend us in fight- 
ing the insidious foe,” the intrepid girl said. “Get up a bat- 
talion. I will enlist and go to the battle field and overthrow 
them and make the land free. Your colors are my colors, 
your America mine. Let us go side by side to the fray,” 
answered her chum. 

Mrs. Rochester watched her youngest daughter closely. 
The girl was not of a nature easily harnessed. Loving and 
dutiful, she strove ever to please. But there her life di- 
verged. She lived in her own being. Her ideals were lofty, 
her climb to the reaches of existence supreme; not reli- 
gious to fanaticism, but yearning to possess the truth. Her 
father comprehended the girl. She had matured, as he indi- 
cated, powerfully in womanhood. 

Her sister ever drew young companions about her. Ex- 
cept to a few friends, the girl was distant, reserved. Her 
mother often thought it was their lack of high intellectual 
possession. She lived in books and nature and won out of 

13 193 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


life a divine range which few understood. Her mother 
feared to ask her concerning Lord Summer. Dixie laid the 
letter among others which were to be replied to and seem- 
ingly forgot to answer it. 

The last of June they still remained alone. Lucille had 
been invited to spend the summer at Cape May with her 
New York chum. Russell had gone to Maine. His friend 
continually begged him to accompany him to the Maine 
coast for the deer-stalking, and a launch, too, would con- 
tribute to the summer yachting along the coast, perhaps to 
Newfoundland to the fisheries. The mother’s heart was 
glad that they were saved the intense heat which pervaded 
the South that summer in its torrid wave. 

Dixie remained the enigma. Never since she had gone 
abroad to get some insight into the foreign world, which she 
was interested in as a study, had she asked to go anywhere. 
She and Athenia kept up a regular correspondence. Sev- 
eral letters came from Siberia, which seemed to share th6 
fate of Lord Summer’s. The girl had been studying, and 
she had little time or capacity to think of aught else. The 
mother at last made up her mind to ask her intentions con- 
cerning Lord Summer. 

“Dixie, have you replied to the letter from Lord Summer? 
From its contents he deserves much courtesy from your 
hands. There are demands in society of the highest form 
which necessitate your consideration. It must, by all laws 
of etiquette, be immediately responded to,” her mother said 
in a reprimanding tone. 

“Mother, my energies are stagnated. Control is in dis- 
use. I should be allowed a girl’s time, that I sweep not 
my bark on shoals where no lighthouse reaches the ship- 
wrecked mariner,” the pleading girl answered. 

“Has Lord Summer interested you as a man you would 
194 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


find congenial? His family is one of the oldest in England, 
allied to Bruce. His mother and the Earl are first cousins. 
He is an exceedingly attractive man, one you have enjoyed. 
Has he won your heart, Dixie, my daughter?’' asked her 
mother. 

“No, mother; no man has attracted me, as you express it. 
My family, the Earl and the Countess, Athenia, and my few 
chums I love. Lord Summer is my friend, one man in a 
million to hold as heaven his friendship ; but the word ‘love’ 
is not compassed in my regard for him,” said the true- 
hearted girl. 

“It is clear, my daughter, that no love fills your heart for 
this man who importunes you for woman’s one priceless 
possession. It must be the one key to all happiness and 
must not be inserted in the heart it does not belong to, or 
doors will open into abysses of sorrow which no power can 
deliver from its woe. Have you never loved a man, Dixie?” 
her mother inquired, looking closely at the girl. 

The girl perhaps slightly winced under the steady gaze. 
Where was Basil Marmaduke? Out in the void of God’s 
world battling with a grief which she had ministered to, 
hoping that a drop of water from the crystal font of friend- 
ship might soothe the restless pulse of care and awaken 
courage to renew the fight, which had driven into the Urals 
a tense nature, wonderfully sweet and attractive. Could she 
tell her of him? 

“Wait, mother; I have a photograph to show you. It is 
in my Indian temple ; the Earl gave it to me in Florence. It 
is a picture of Basil Marmaduke. Tell me what his face 
says to you.” 

Mrs. Rochester took the medallion from Dixie, studying 
long the face. That it charmed her, Dixie saw. But deeper 
she gazed and said : “He has the most fascinating personal- 

195 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


ity I ever looked at. The face is dominant — a will as strong 
as iron, a nature as deep as the sea. Either heights of great 
good or evil to the dregs will influence him. Do you love 
this man, Dixie 1 ” asked a solicitous mother. 

“We met on uncle’s ship, mother. He was versatile, a 
fine musician, and a charming dancer. But he had a great 
sorrow and could not bear it bravely. His absence from the 
company made me curious to find the cause of his sadness. 
One evening a medallion similar to the one which you hold 
in your hand fell from his pocket. It unclasped, and the 
queenliest girl that my eyes ever rested on looked up at me. 
She had cruelly flirted with him — splayed the game of hearts, 
so fashionable now. The man was a misanthrope. He 
went to the wilds of Siberia to hide away from the stab of 
love.” 

“How did you come into possession of his photograph 
under the conditions ?” asked her mother. 

“I overstepped the deference due a stranger to protest 
against manhood’s power allowing a wound to canker be- 
neath the life and destroy regal strength. Mother, I could 
not allow any one to suffer without offering my interest. 
He drank the cool draught of sympathy as a mariner does 
fresh water after being long at sea.” 

“Ah ! my child, men stagger under the blows of life and 
die unnoticed in the world of formality. Barriers of society 
shut off humanity’s healing. It is only strong natures that 
go through barred entrances and touch wounds with healing 
balm,” said the true heart of Dixie’s mother. 

“A child can comfort where formality withers. I often 
think that it will save him. In five years he will return to 
his own country. He asked me not to forget, for then we 
must renew our friendship.” 

Dixie brought to her mother several letters received 
196 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


at long intervals. It was a weird description of the Ural 
Range, with the trials of Marmaduke and the naturalist 
with whom he was traveling, and also a description of the 
customs and life of the mountaineers, often mentioning the 
pleasure of the fresh life she had, its spontaneity awaken- 
ing him to the newer delight of living. 

'It's the deep heart of nature's nobleman, Dixie. Let her 
beware who trifles with such a rare existence. To have two 
such friends attracted to you out of the existence of to-day 
is indeed a rare privilege. If your father were alive, my 
child, I should have no fear. He knew your nature and 
studied plans for the future of his children. We will walk 
with uncovered heads through the labyrinth and see if fate 
holds an even balance.” 

Lord Summer was replied to that very afternoon. She 
told him of the honor conferred. She felt she was not 
able to respond to the affection which his nature demand- 
ed — the whole of a girl's heart. She was too young to en- 
tertain the thought of marriage. She had but the slightest 
knowledge of the meaning of the tie. But the tie was one 
of eternity, and she dared not try its strength without study- 
ing the matter as deeply as her dear books and inform her- 
self of its deeper meaning. It surpassed all knowledge; it 
compassed all of life's existence. Greek, Latin, and French 
she was master of; but the human heart — only time un- 
locks its pages. She would not dare to attempt to unseal 
the unopened work of life. All the training of her life had 
debarred this portion of life from her. Her father had 
instilled it into her very being, as a Southern custom of the 
best grade, to leave the matter to its own solving. It had 
not yet entered her head. Seeing before her the study of 
important matters, she must mix with live issues. Her coun- 
try's condition was no better than that of Cuba when they 

197 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


crossed the seas with the insurgent in whom they were all 
so interested — in debarring slavery from world customs. 
Woman must necessarily enter the fight. She was prepar- 
ing her course. She would bring both mother and sister 
to Berlin. He must contribute his cheer to the party. Her 
letter concluded by again thanking him for his friendship, 
which she felt she needed in the relations of life and its 
few associations that she had formed. 

198 


XVII. 

YELLOW FEVER. 


The terrific heat of the Southland caused much illness. 
The overflow left disorders aggravated by unsanitary con- 
ditions unavoidable. The physicians" phaetons were never 
quiet. All day and night through the city and country they 
drove, and many deaths occurred. Moving back into the 
damp houses, it was reported, caused most of the typhoid. 
Be that as it may, the city’s death rate had increased fearful- 
ly. It was not confined to Helena and the surrounding 
country; it was broadcast over the entire South, especially 
where the overflow occurred. The intense heat was unbear- 
able. Strong men sank, sun-struck, on the streets, and in- 
fants withered before their mothers* eyes. Dixie and her 
mother were about with cool fresh milk, jellies, and minis- 
tering of their stores to the helpless. The doctors rang them 
up, as requested, in hours of demand. Many a mother sank 
too weary to bear longer the burden of life. Little children 
were huddled into the phaetons and driven back to the house 
on the hill among the cool trees. Old people who had lived 
for years in the downtown portions sat in their little yards 
gasping for breath. These the girl asked to drive back to the 
hills, and kept them a week or more, until they went back to 
see after their few chickens. 

The daily papers came the last of July with a crash on 
the South. The New Orleans Picayune had across its front 
page in heavy black type the startling headline, “Yellow 
Fever in New Orleans.” There were fifty cases in that city. 
Vicksburg, Natchez, and Baton Rouge had strictly quaran- 
tined. The cities were paroled by mounted police. The 

199 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


whole country was under guard. The Vicksburg Democrat 
stifled not the reports. It feared the returning disaster of 
a scourge when the fever swept the entire South, with a 
harvest of people that only the Asiatic bubonic plague ever 
saw. 

The Memphis Appeal flashed the news over the South, 
which established quarantine as far north as Cincinnati. 
Rigid watch was made; miles from every city’s environs 
paroled. Steamboats from Southern ports were not per- 
mitted to land. The fever had entered Charleston. Nat- 
chez, too, had been penetrated, and patients were dying by 
the thousands. Nashville was prostrated, many refugees 
succumbing on her environs. Every train bore hundreds. 
From Mobile and Jacksonville they rushed panic-stricken 
to the North, all escaping that could obtain passage. The 
cities were doomed. No measures were adequate to stop 
its march. Like a simoon it swept, swallowing mart, palace, 
and hut alike. Memphis had lined her streets with mounted 
police. Every avenue was guarded. No entrance could 
be effected within her environs, on penalty of death. But 
the malady advanced upon it like Napoleon upon Vienna. 
It threw down its strength, laid waste its pride, and swept 
on to Cairo, entering with death warrant and reaping a har- 
vest unknown. 

Mrs. Rochester was walking the front veranda, deep anx- 
iety on her face. She had sent to the hospital a load of 
sheeting, bedding, and jellies. Many unknown negroes had 
fallen beneath the disease, and the city supplied what was 
possible, she knew; but her heart for suffering was not a 
usual heart. She offered of her stores to the uncared-for. 
But there ministry ended. Some one called her name. She 
turned. A boy stood with a telegram, holding it up to her 
from the steps. She hastily opened it, reading : 


200 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Come out in the skiff I send in to you to-night. Have reserved 
stateroom for two. Come sure. Life or death. Captain Hicks. 

Her face paled. She reached for the railing for support. 

Dixie saw the boy tie his horse in the avenue and climb the 
terrace steps, and she knew that he had a telegram ; so she 
hastened down to her mother’s side, asking: “What is it, 
mother? You are pale. Sit down here on the settee.” 

Her mother handed her the telegram. Dixie hastily read 
it, asking: “Do you intend going? Are you afraid to re- 
main? It is healthful back here on the hill. You could 
never stand the trip in the awful heat, mother.” 

“Your father is not here to care for us, my daughter. 
The sanitary conditions are fearful since the flood, and” — 
looking again at the telegram — “Captain Hicks says that it 
is life or death. Direct from New Orleans, he knows the 
exact conditions. Yes, Dixie; I am fearfully afraid, and 
we will go to-night. Pay the boy. Give him some fruit, too, 
to carry home to his mother. Fill a basket of those fresh 
figs and pears.” 

All day they laid away furnishings in cedar chests. They 
sent the silver plate and several paintings (one of Dixie 
which Duroc had painted) down to the city to the bank 
vault. The house was closed and the shutters locked. Rugs 
and handsome draperies and ornaments were carefully 
stored. Charlotte and old Job, her father, were placed in 
charge of the premises, and expense money was left them. 
Perhaps the house would be rented for five years, she told 
them. The girls were going abroad to conclude their studies. 
The broker who had leased the cotton yards had very much 
desired the lease also of the residence. She had been consid- 
ering it until fall. She would arrange before leaving the 
city. But they were to remain and have their home right 
there as long as they lived. The cabins belonged to them. 


201 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Mrs. Rochester sent their trunks to the wharf, closed the 
house, and Job drove them down to the hotel, where she 
sent for the broker to call upon her, as she was leaving 
the city by the night boat. He returned with the coach- 
man and was ushered into the parlors. He gladly ac- 
cepted the proposal to occupy the residence and signed a 
five-year lease for it, including the furnishings, which were 
to be properly used and all damage paid for. His family 
included only ladies. He felt gratified, he remarked on 
closing the transfer, to be able to occupy her valued home 
place. 

Supper was served them. Job took his span to the livery 
stable to await his mistress's departure on the night boat. 

At two o'clock that night a deep, sonorous whistle broke 
the stillness of the sleeping city. Job roused up from his 
half doze by the window, where he had stationed himself 
to see the down-river range, and went to the chamber of 
Mrs. Rochester, calling to her that the boat had whistled and 
was standing in the middle of the river waiting. They 
could just make the wharf in time to meet the skiff. She 
was ready ; and with satchel, she and Dixie entered the car- 
riage and drove hurriedly to the wharf. 

Two skiffs were on the way. The regular dip of the 
oars as they fell back in the lockers was distinctly borne 
to their hearing in the midnight stillness. They hove in 
sight and pulled up to the wharf, where the ladies were 
quickly lowered by a short, heavy ladder. The trunks and 
small baggage were conveyed to the other skiff ; and with a 
last good-by to the old servant. Job, they turned the prow 
of the skiff back into the swift currents and within twenty 
minutes were on board the “United States," and Captain 
Hicks was escorting them to the reserved staterooms. 

Mrs. Rochester and Dixie heartily expressed their grati- 
202 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


tude for the remembrance of them alone in a stricken city. 
The Captain waved it aside, reminding her of the long, close 
friendship the two men had had as shippers. 

“You must not step from your stateroom, not even leave 
the doors open onto the decks. All my passengers are from 
New Orleans. No fever has broken out yet, but it is imper- 
ative to observe every precaution. Before the scourge is 
over, the South will lose a million of her inhabitants. And,” 
he said severely, “the river towns are alive with germs of 
the disease. With a million germs floating about, the fever 
will wipe out the Mississippi Valley.” 

Mrs. Rochester sank back exhausted at the awful ac- 
count. Dixie excused her, closing the door of their state- 
room. 

“It is slow passage, dear mother. The confinement in 
shut-in quarters is too much for you. It is more perilous 
than the yellow fever. If we could only leave the deck door 
open! But the passing is continuous and very dangerous. 
To-night, when sleep comes to the restless passengers, I am 
going to open that door a wee bit,” said Dixie as she saw 
her mother prostrated now and fearing that the strain in the 
close apartment would be the end of her mother’s life. 

“If the blazing sun did not pour so on the river all day 
long, I could breathe. It weakens me. It is impossible to 
sit up,” her mother gasped. 

“Keep quiet, dear mother. Let me fan you. It will re- 
lieve the pressure some. We are nearing Cairo now. The 
boat will lose many of her passengers going north to the 
lakes and to the large cities of Chicago, Des Moines, and 
Minneapolis. They will escape the rigid espionage and re- 
tention and the fumigating at Louisville and Cincinnati. 
The few days will be short. Keep up courage, mother,” 
pleaded her daughter. 


203 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Mrs. Rochester's condition grew alarming. A noted phy- 
sician on board from San Antonio was called in to see her. 
She had nerve prostration, aggravated by the confinement. 
The doors must be left open, as fresh air was necessary. 
Her vitality was too low to dally with measures of precau- 
tion. 

To Dixie the doctor privately said : "Watch your mother 
closely. I will relieve you every hour. She is at death's 
door." 

As Evansville came in sight Dixie telegraphed for her 
grandmother to meet them at the wharf at Louisville with 
a physician and a trained nurse, as her mother was very low 
from fright and close confinement. 

Resuscitative measures were employed. The sufferer lay 
pallid, scarcely breathing. The hours passed until midnight 
of the second night, when a loud whistle broke from the 
boat. Louisville was twinkling in the distance. The locks 
were passed through, and by early morning they landed at 
the wharf. Mrs. Creighton met them with the required 
attendants and continued with them the upper-river trip. 

By the next night they were in the childhood home of 
Julia Rochester. She had barely lifted her eyelids. A faint 
smile came on her lips as she saw her aged mother, and the 
physician said that her pulse was very much improved. 
They lifted her into an ambulance and drove slowly through 
the central portion of the city, back to the suburban place 
on the bluff of the Ohio. 

For days Mrs. Rochester lay unconscious, the frail life 
exhausted with weariness. The French windows were 
thrown wide open onto the spacious porch running the 
length of the house. Primeval trees kept their limbs brush- 
ing with freshness against the pillars supporting it. But 
the heat abated not ; only the temperature changed from the 

204 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


climate of the more distant South to a perceptibly cooler 
latitude. 

Telegrams were daily dispatched to the two absent chil- 
dren, each wishing to come to her bedside; but the doctor 
in charge said that he felt no immediate alarm. She was 
regaining her strength. The danger was passed for the 
present. She would slowly recover. 

Fear sat at the heart of the nation, gnawing at the vitals. 
The scorching heat abated not. The sun rose and set like 
a ball of fire, the color of carrots. The grass of the fields 
parched; the leaves of the trees wilted and hung scorched 
on the limbs, curling crisp at the ends. No moisture fell — 
only blinding, glaring, smothering, consuming heat. 

Long lists of the fever patients were read every morning, 
Jacksonville and Baton Rouge being the worst sufferers. 
Some deserted towns had hardly any residents remaining — 
not sufficient to care for the dead. On came the reports 
until man sickened at the fearful recountal, feeling that 
some remedy could be employed to stop the ravages of the 
Southern cities. Their sanitary condition was equal to that 
of any Northern city. The contagion was from more South- 
ern ports. A rigid sanitation would be inaugurated, stricter 
than ever before, and science would eliminate the scourge. 

September days retained the fetid heat. The sun abated 
not its fury. Only the night dews began to fall, which gave 
some surcease from the condition. Mrs. Rochester rallied 
but little. She had undergone a strain which, the physician 
said, it would perhaps take years to overcome. Neither 
could she return to the Southern climate. The prostrating 
temperature had already claimed a vitality never very strong. 
Her constitution was undermined. Unless she was very 
careful, he despaired of her life. 

Under the conditions, Lucille and Russell both came to 
205 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


their mother’s bedside, remaining several months. When 
the winter months came, with the cold air, Mrs. Rochester 
regained somewhat of her old-time health. Lucille returned 
to the East, entering the Boston Conservatory ; and Russell 
went to Brazil to overlook some surveys which a New York 
company was making and incidentally to take oversight of 
the sugar plantation of the family. 

Dixie remained by the side of her mother, in her delicate 
state of health. In another year perhaps she would be 
stronger. She was glad in her loneliness, away from her be- 
loved home, that her mother was saved to her. She began 
studies in German literature, fitting herself more fully to 
undertake her course mapped out, but delayed. 

206 


XVIII. 

THE OLD KENTUCKY HOME. 

The strength of a nation had come through the Cumber- 
lands to homes in Kentucky. They are a people you meet 
once in a lifetime — warm-hearted, constant in affection, hos- 
pitable, and true. Her sons and daughters have filled the 
West, blushing in the school children of Iowa, Texas, and 
far California. 

Here Dixie Rochester found friends — something which 
the schoolgirl had not cultivated as necessary to her well- 
being. The friendly young people called to make her ac- 
quaintance. She joined their clubs and took part in their 
societies. Her next-door neighbor was a daughter of Sen- 
ator Macgraw, who stood in the legislative halls like Doug- 
las of old. His library held perhaps the choicest of classi- 
cal literature. To Dixie it was a refuge, and he a tutor, a 
graduate of the University of Edinburgh. They ran the 
gamut of all literature, the wife being a scholar. Dixie 
unbosomed the delay in her law course, and the Senator in- 
sisted that she take up the study in his office. 

“Miss Rochester, will you enter my office as preparatory 
to your university course? Your brain is grasping, your 
mind alert, and your penetration is the keenest I ever met 
in a woman. Your love of solving the abstruse, the difficult, 
is an attribute of a fine lawyer. Logic, humor, and a gift of 
language furnish the ability to present a case. You can 
become my partner when you pass.’' 

‘T am a dull dreamer, Senator. Events have passed so 
rapidly in my life. No stationary thing is mine. All is 
elusive. The delicate state of my mother’s health has pros- 

207 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


trated my energies. Many nights I have watched at her 
bedside, fearing a relapse of the nervous condition. It has 
undermined my own robust physique. If strength could 
bear the study! How able you are to direct! If circum- 
stances change, your offer will be accepted gratefully,"^ re- 
plied Dixie to her new-found friend. 

Three years passed in the lives of the Rochesters. Mrs. 
Rochester never regained her once good health. In the 
summer she passed away. They took her back to the home 
in the Southland and buried her beside the husband she had 
loved so devotedly, and the children had another grave be- 
side the parent who had passed away from their young lives. 
They were now, indeed, orphans bereft of her who had min- 
istered the double portion to young lives. 

Dixie returned to reside with her grandmother in Ken- 
tucky. Her health having undergone such an intense strain, 
her physician, who understood her constitution, refused to 
allow her to remain a day in the South, fearing, he said in 
great kindness, that she would follow her loved parents to 
the grave. 

The long, close confinement in her devotion at the bed- 
side of her mother had already impaired her health. Within 
a month she took the place of her mother in the north room. 
A racking fever ran through her veins, depleting the forces 
of a robust life. “Typhoid,"" said the doctor, who hung over 
her bed with loving care, such as he might have given his 
own daughter. Dixie"s care of her mother had won the 
heart of the old physician, he having said to his wife that 
such devotion he had never seen. Lucille and Russell were 
both called to her bedside. With all nursing and attention, 
they fought the disease that had its grip on the young life. 
Three months passed by. 

A sickly, wan face looked up at Lucille, asking : “Where 
208 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


have I been? My hand” — she held it up to the light — '‘is 
transparent. Where have you kept me, that I am so thin ?” 

Her grandmother sat near the bed watching the turn of 
the disease. She lifted her ear trumpet to her ear, asking 
of Lucille : “What did she say?” 

Lucille repeated her sick sister's query, her grandmother 
replying: “Our little girl has been battling with a consum- 
ing fever. She is spared us now, and presently we will 
restore her to health.” 

Dixie's eyes wearily closed. She sank again into refresh- 
ing slumber. They began feeding her nourishing foods. 
Her magnificent suit of auburn hair had all fallen out. She 
put her hand to her head and smiled, saying : “Do not let 
it bother you ; it will soon grow back. That was my baby 
hair ; that was all I valued it for. Perhaps another suit will 
be black. I have wished all my life for raven locks.” 

“You would be entirely another girl. Our dashing Dixie 
would be some quiet nobody. That hair had the fire of our 
forefathers in it. I pray that it will return as glossy, long, 
and curly as it was,” Lucille answered. 

“What of my young friends, Lucille? Has Carrie Powell 
been to see me, or Annie Browinski? And did you say Mr. 
Lester had sent these bushels of roses, fruits, and new maga- 
zines for me to see the prints of? Has he been often to 
inquire of me?” 

“He simply stayed here, Dixie, morning and night, clear 
until twelve o'clock, and was here again by seven. Many a 
night he has sat by your bed. Dixie, he asked me a strange 
question. Shall I tell you ?” Lucille asked. 

“No; I do not wish to hear it. He asked it of me two 
years ago. I am going to get well and go to Germany. I 
will not be any man's wife.” 

But she did not regain her health. Her physician sent to 
14 209 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Cincinnati for a consulting friend, and they bent grave heads 
together over the sick girl’s case. They decided that she 
must be taken to the far South at once and cared for scien- 
tifically. Something lay at the heart of the disease which 
only the sea air and Southern climate would react upon. 
She must go at once. 

The family consulted together in the presence of Dixie’s 
few close friends. Mr. Lester insisted that he also accom- 
pany Lucille, he asking her again to see if Dixie would con- 
sent to a marriage. He then could take charge of her and 
save her life, he knew. When the plain case was stated to 
the sick girl, she closed her eyes, and a faint sigh stole from 
her lips. At last, raising her eyes to her sister’s face, she 
said : “I will marry him.” 

Within a week they had taken Dixie to Palm Beach, her 
sister and husband accompanying her. A cottage was pro- 
cured in the neighborhood of the magnificent hotel then 
under construction, and she lay several weeks in sight of 
the ocean. She smiled as the billows swept on the shore 
and heard them break and roll up the sands. 

“You have played us a game, Dixie, my wife. It was the 
sea you loved so much. I am glad you are here,” said Mr. 
Lester. 

Life came back into the currents of Dixie’s veins. She 
so far improved that in early January Lucille took her de- 
parture for Boston, concluding, she said, if Dixie continued 
to improve, to make a date of sailing very soon for Ger- 
many to enter the conservatory. 

Lucille had been engaged to a New Orleans banker for 
several years ; but her one thought, interruptions had retard- 
ed. He was unwilling to be separated from her and was only 
waiting for her to finish the course. 

The one man that Dixie Rochester had ever entertained 


210 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the slightest interest in had dropped from her life. Six 
years had elapsed. For a year no word had come to the 
girl from Basil Marmaduke. After concluding her studies 
at home, she had taken far more interest in her correspond- 
ence with Marmaduke, it becoming one of her dearest pleas- 
ures to receive his letters and reply to them. After her 
mother's long illness, she had still continued her correspond- 
ence. His last letter, in the early part of the previous year, 
stated that he was to return to America and — to her. Day 
after day she watched the mail. She dared not write to his 
home, fearing that it would be unmaidenly. But the months 
passed, the new year came, and in January they came to 
her, asking if she would marry a man who had long been her 
devoted lover. She now had no claims on any one on earth. 
Basil was dead, perhaps, or inscrutable. Her sister was re- 
tained at her bedside when her course was obstructed. Has- 
tily the worried girl consented to this marriage, and her 
heart sobbed as she gave consent. She loved Basil Marma- 
duke. 

Mr. Lester, Dixie's husband, was a son of one of the 
oldest Kentucky landed estates. He was one of the most 
polished young business men in the State ; one whom Dixie 
was drawn to immediately; one who paid her every atten- 
tion ; one whom she respected highly ; one, alas ! whom she 
injured eternally and her own soul. She did not love the 
man of nobility of soul, but her husband never to the day of 
his death found it out. 

Dixie quickly regained her health. She began teasing her 
husband, as she had her mother, sister, and those about her, 
saying when she got able to walk the sands : “Wise man to 
get a wife ill and pay the price of her restoration. How 
can I ever repay you for this love ?" As she spoke she looked 
up archly. 

2II 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


'‘Love me, Dixie; else you will become weary of your 
bargain and desert me when your strength returns. You 
have already begun teasing. What can I do to hold the 
heart?” he asked lovingly. 

"Send Scylla and my cart down immediately you return 
home. The doctor said that if I would drive most of the 
day and keep in the open air I would soon be as well as 
ever,” she answered him. 

"Your slightest wish, my love, needs but expression. 
Within two weeks I must go North. A letter to-day de- 
mands my immediate presence. I would return to-night if 
you were fully restored, but you look almost as well as you 
did when I first saw you on the ice. Do you remember how 
I came up and skated with you when you and your friend 
first came down to the Ohio?” he asked tenderly. 

"That was an accomplishment I had never learned. We 
had no skating on ice in the South. You taught me to skate, 
if you remember. Lucille enjoyed it. She often told me 
that it was gay sport. Now I, too, can cut my name in the 
ice and cut circles, too, with you,” she replied to him. 

"Ah ! my wife, it cut the circles about my heart and into 
it, tying me with lines which will grow stronger and tighter 
all through the years. No man ever found love as sweet 
as I have.” He looked up at her as if she were an incarna- 
tion. 

"Don’t test them; don’t try them. It is a new circle I 
have cut, according to the perfect "O” of Giotto. It is far 
from perfect. My hands are faulty, my soul is faltering, 
and my heart is less able to master intricate theorems than 
you think.” 

How true Dixie spoke, only life proved. She never fal- 
tered in allegiance to life’s duties, be they what they were. 
Her soul kept principle, but her heart died. 


212 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


After several weeks Mr. Lester returned to the North, 
sending back the phaeton and Scylla. Dixie, of course, 
made immediate use of her loved horse. Laying her wom- 
anly cheek against her face and telling her many things 
about her loved Southland, she whinnied back to her as if 
human. A number of cottages surrounded Palm Beach. 
Families from the East thronged for the bathing and the 
fine beach. Many people from the central and near-by cities 
came. One cottage was occupied by merely a little boy with 
tremendous violet eyes — so distinctly violet that Dixie con- 
tinued her gaze until the little fellow handed her a handful 
of roses his father had brought him from Memphis one 
morning as she drove past the cottage. She reined up her 
horse, saying : “Come and ride with me.’* He asked permis- 
sion of his nurse, and she consented. Many days the child 
sat by her. Every morning she came by for the beautiful 
boy. He was there, he told her, for delicate lungs. His 
mother was dead, and his father and he were all that re- 
mained of their family. The child drew his father toward 
the phaeton the next time he came to visit, saying: “Papa 
must thank you for all our lovely rides.” 

“No need at all, my little fellow. You have kept me 
company, too,” she said. “You kept me company as I drove. 
We have been good friends,” she said to the little boy’s 
father. 

“You must have been. My little son can talk of nothing 
else. Are you a Southern woman ?” he asked interestedly. 

“Yes, originally from your sister city; of the Rochester 
family. Perhaps you were acquainted with my father?” 
she asked. 

“Russ Rochester ? Indeed, madam, he was too well 
known in Memphis for a cotton broken not to remember 
at once. I received shipments of cotton from him long 

213 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


before the war and constantly ever since/' he said, extending 
his hand in greeting to Dixie. 

“How glad I am to meet you here and to know my father's 
friend and his little son !" who was holding tight to Dixie's 
hand and looking up into her face. 

“I am glad to form your acquaintance, I assure you. Yes, 
my son is all I have left of my family. My wife, three 
daughters, and oldest son died of yellow fever four years 
ago. My son has weak lungs, and we spend our winters 
here. The hotel will be a satisfactory addition to the surf. 
It is the best beach on the South Atlantic Coast." 

The little boy returned to the city with his nurse the next 
trip, and Dixie became lonesome without the child's violet 
eyes. But there were still a few remaining at the cottages 
with whom she had acquaintance, driving past them, often 
taking them with her in her rambles along the shore, the 
cottages being strung along the coast for several hundred 
yards. 

214 


XIX. 

THE LOVE OF LIFE. 


March blew her fragrant breath of roses across the Flor- 
ida beach. The air was redolent of perfume borne on the 
breeze. Flora began clambering over the forest growth, 
dense in its penetration, breaking into a glory of color. The 
morning broke grandly on the beach. The murmuring sea 
swept up its sloping waves on golden sands. 

Dixie came out on the cottage veranda and looked at the 
sun rising in the waters, shading her eyes with her hand. 
But what is that moored this morning in the sea? A ship? 
Yes ; from Florence, too, she saw, using her glass. A launch 
had put off with oarsmen, and some one was sitting in the 
stem. Dixie watched the occurrence — watched the men 
land at the pier, saw the butler from the hotel receive him 
as he strode quickly up the beach and on to the improvised 
accommodations which the beach provided. 

Dixie went back to her domicile and ate her breakfast, 
which her colored “mammy'' had arranged for her “pet 
chile," having come to the beach when she wrote her that 
her husband was bringing her to recover her health. Char- 
lotte understood her “baby," as she often called her. She 
had nursed her at birth, had taken care of her through 
babyhood, and had now come to care for the cottage and 
Dixie as long as she remained. She went back again onto 
the beach and sat, as usual, in the morning sun, waiting for 
Job to eat his breakfast and hitch up Scylla for her usual 
morning ride. 

Job assisted Dixie to her place in the phaeton, handed 
her the reins, lifted his hat from his old gray head in the 

215 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


old-time way, and stepped back to the porch as his young 
mistress sped away behind her frisky horse. With a bow, 
as usual, she passed by the cottages which were open; the 
closed ones she passed by unnoticed. Ah ! one was occupied, 
perhaps by the stranger that she saw across the sands. She 
looked across to the place as she passed by. He was looking 
directly at her and was sitting on the porch in white flan- 
nels, white hat, black eyes, black hair. 

“My God, Basil Marmaduke !” she cried. 

The phaeton came to a standstill in the road. Marma- 
duke came swiftly down as she sat there staring at him. 

“Yes, Basil Marmaduke, Dixie. What are you doing at 
Palm Beach?” 

“I lost my mother and have been ill a long time. I came 
down to recuperate.” 

“Why have you not answered my letters, Dixie? I have 
written repeatedly, and no answer came back. I have been 
ill too, dear, in Teheran months with Asiatic fever. We 
roamed over a great deal of country on the other side of 
the Ural Mountains and drank bad water, I think. I be- 
came ill. My friend took me to Teheran nine months ago. 
It has been a battle few men could win. I ran down here 
to get an appearance. It was fate, my love, that brought me 
to you,” he said, taking the reins from her hands and driving 
on into the perfect day. 

“I, too, am here under orders from my physician. How 
glad I am to see you again ! How long the years have been 
since we separated at Venice, six years ago ! How I have 
yearned through all the years to see you again, Dixie ! 
What a magnificent v/oman you have developed into! I 
never saw so charming a woman. Such regality! You are 
superb, Dixie, my love ! I have come to claim my reward.” 

He had drawn close to her, searching her face with eyes 
216 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


of intense love. She answered not a word. Her face, so 
filled with life, paled; her eyes drooped. She had taken 
her own life, her heart cried. 

“Dixie, my love, speak to me. Tell me your heart’s 
dear answer.” 

“I am married,” she at last said, almost inarticulately. 

“My God! Married? Married to whom? Could you 
not wait for me ? Did you not love me, my darling, my all ? 
All through the years I have kept from all thought of my 
sin to meet your ideal. Dixie, I cannot let you go,” he said 
hoarsely, crying out of his heart’s pain. 

“I am far from strong. It is too severe to bear further 
the strain of life. I must go back to my cottage. I am very 
weak,” she said. 

“No, I must talk with you. Think how long the years 
have been preparing to meet one whose ideals of manhood 
were so lofty. Since that last time on the ship, when you 
found me drinking, no other liquor has ever passed my lips. 
I am a perfect man now and have reached the real power 
of existence. I came to marry the girl in all the world to 
me. Dixie, you must become my wife.” 

They drove on into the sunlight, which fell on the water 
and glistened with a thousand rippling waves. The songs 
of the birds filled the morning air with a melody never 
heard before. All nature lay embalmed in radiance, as if 
they were passing into paradise. Dixie let Scylla carry 
them on into the day. Forgotten was the world. Gladness 
had come to her. Love was here at last, and she must drink 
of the fountain of all life. 

They were silent, voiceless, each soul holding communion 
within its own depths. The gladness of life, the crown of 
existence, had slipped from them. The woman had never 
known love before. The man had been cruelly flirted, and 

217 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


he had lost amid the wilds of nature’s solitude the dart from 
the hand of a loved friend. There was no deliverance now ; 
there was only the sound of tears in the woman’s heart. 
The man sat stunned, lifeless. 

At last out of the deep silence Marmaduke spoke, saying: 
“You promised me, Dixie, that you would remember. My 
God! How could you kill me this way? Dixie, I would 
have staked my life on your truth. I cannot lose you. You 
are mine ; by all the law of God and man, you are mine ! I 
will never let you go.” 

He looked at her. Her head had fallen to one side ; she 
had fainted. He quickly sprang from the phaeton, filled 
his hat with water from the sea, and bathed her face. She 
opened her eyes directly and looked at him. Numb with 
pain, she closed them again. He kept bathing her face, 
kissing it, too, with sobbing kisses. She placed one arm 
about his neck and sat motionless for quite a while, he mur- 
muring : “My love, my love I” 

After a while Marmaduke turned the horse’s head back 
toward the cottages. They had gone but a little way along 
the shore road, and the cottages were still in sight. 

“Dixie, I am taking you back home now. We will attend 
to this matter quickly. Are you better now, my love?” he 
asked of her. 

She lifted her head away from his inclosed arms, took 
her arm from about his neck, and sat up quietly. They 
drove back to the cottage. 

Job came to take the horse, Dixie merely saying: “Job, 
this is Mr. Marmaduke, the gentleman I told you of meeting 
long years ago on uncle’s ship.” 

The darky scraped a low bow to Marmaduke and took 
the horse to the stable. 

Marmaduke assisted Dixie to climb up the steps of the 
218 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


low veranda and to a hammock swinging in the inclosed 
porch. He sat beside her, fanning her gently. Charlotte 
brought them fruit and coffee. She made a salaam to Mar- 
maduke, Dixie telling her that he was a very old friend. 

The morning waned away, the two quietly chatting in 
low tones. They talked of simple things, she holding avert- 
ed face from him, he often asking: “Dixie, turn your face 
toward me, love; I must see the love in the eyes that are 
mine.” 

At last he went away, saying that he was going to walk 
in the woods in the afternoon. In the evening he was com- 
ing back. They must decide about their course. 

Dixie was herself when Marmaduke came in the evening. 
Indisposition seemed to have vanished from her. 

As Marmaduke stepped up the low steps of the veranda 
he thought that her face was radiant, glorious, and shook 
her extended hand, remarking: “Now you are as beautiful 
as yonder moon. Come and walk on the sands of the shores. 
I want to tell you something.” 

Dixie turned back into the room, caught up a shawl, 
wrapped it about her head and throat, took his arm, and 
they descended the steps onto the long ribboned walk which 
wound miles along the Palm Beach shore. 

Many were out in the glowing moonlight. Few could 
resist the delightful evenings of enjoyment which the South- 
ern resort offered in winter. On in the moonlight Marma- 
duke and Dixie walked. The night was heavenly. The 
stars shone as of old, running into the waves, each crest 
silvered in the cloudless moonlight, as if nature made aus- 
picious the hour when the soul tried its own destiny. 

“The night has arrayed herself in the garb of a gracious 
queen, Dixie. Was it meant for the troth of lovers such as 
you and I ?” Marmaduke inquired. 

219 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“O, Mr. Marmaduke, make not this meeting one which 
I am unable to bear! I am a wedded wife. Lost forever 
are the days of our troth/' Dixie replied. 

“I will never release you from our troth, Dixie. It is re- 
corded as sacred in the annals of heaven as the wedding 
vow you made to a man whom you did not love. Your 
heart was betrothed to me. He is not your wedded hus- 
band ; you are mine," he said firmly. 

“As I saved you from a great crime against your man- 
hood, so save me from this sorrow that is beyond my 
strength to bear," she cried out of a broken heart. 

“I shall not insist at once upon this acceptance of my love, 
Dixie. But let us drink of this Lethe offered to our lips. 
You are mine, love. I must live in the light of this radiance, 
else I die," he answered. 

“I have never tasted such happiness. In books I read 
of it, but my girl life was filled with labor of great interest 
to me. After it was finished, womanhood with its deep 
yearnings came to me. The letters you wrote to me became 
the substance upon which my heart fed. The thought that 
you would be saved to me if I lost my mother buoyed me 
up all through her illness. I sat day and night watching 
the flickering life, and for days I watched for my letters 
from you. At last they came no more. Weeks and months 
passed. Still I had no line or word from you. My mother 
passed away, and life seemed utterly useless to me. I, too, 
fell ill and lay tmconscious for weeks, and they expected 
me to follow her whom I loved so dearly. My friends gave 
of their strength and help to carry my frail life through its 
illness. The doctor stood by my bedside and said that the 
last chance for me was to return to the South, the place of 
my early life. He told me to go to the Southern seashore, 
for no one was able to combat the illness longer. One who 


220 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


had long loved me had often sought me for his wife. I con- 
sented to marry him. What difference to me did it make? 
A year had passed, and you were dead or had forgotten me. 
Now I am a wife. A Rochester never yields her word or 
forgets her sacred vows."' Dixie spoke slowly, as if she had 
pursued the subject to its end and made a decision. 

"‘Dixie, you must not say it. Let me live awhile longer; 
then I will go back to the torture of existence, back to the 
punishment of creation. I, too, suffer beyond my strength. 
Who is the Father in yonder skies who is unable to rescue 
us from such woe? He made no release from such pitiful 
suffering. Save me, Dixie, or I die!” he pleaded, broken- 
hearted. 

“No, there is no panacea for this bitterest of human sor- 
row. There is no efficacy for every ailment. The heart of 
man dies of its human torture.” 

“The way is all thorn-strewn. There is no healing in 
Gethsemane, Dixie. Twice I am called upon to suffer. I 
went into the far wilderness to banish grief. While yet I 
palliated the first human woe. He laid the seething iron 
again on my scorched heart.” Marmaduke's face was drawn 
with suffering as he told of the depths of his sorrow. 

Dixie had no answer for this, and they walked on in the 
peerless night, wrestling with the tragedy of two souls 
struggling in the throes of a deathless love. 

At last Dixie’s quietude aroused Marmaduke, and he 
asked : “When man is not able to reach the altitude of this 
requisition, he reaches for a release from human suffering, 
that the heart may be happy and enjoy what his frail vision 
sees. You must be divorced, Dixie; you are my promised 
wife.” 

“Divorced!” Dixie grew white to the crown, shining in 
the moonlight, now curling in ringlets over her brow. 


221 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Divorced, Mr. Marmaduke? A Southern woman di- 
vorced? ‘Until death do you part.' It is like the hills in 
tenacity in the true Southern soul. There is no divorce.” 

“His lips will kiss you. His arms will be around you, 
where mine belong. Little children will come into the 
home and call” — ^his voice broke then, and a sob fell from 
his anguished soul, but he continued — “will call you ‘mam- 
ma.' You cannot impart to them a love which is not yours. 
Your heart will search and never find rest. The winsome- 
ness of beauty which is your greatest charm will turn to 
austerity because of this heart's need. Dignity will alone 
fill the heart and the depth of sorrow.” Marmaduke's voice 
broke into a sob. 

They turned and wandered homeward, Marmaduke fear- 
ing to overtax her strength. Deep sobs were shaking the 
form of the woman. He slipped his arm about her and 
drew her to his heart, and they sat down on the veranda 
steps. She unresistingly let his arm remain about her. 
She shook as with an inner chill, but he drew her shawl 
about her more closely. They sat silently on the steps, with 
the moonlight flooding all the earth. 

Several days passed before the subject uppermost in their 
hearts was again mentioned. Marmaduke had thrown a 
desperate card for love. His last card was on the deck of 
endeavor. But the principles of Dixie Rochester’s life were 
unassailable. Grafted within her very being were distinct 
lines of life. On those lines she always walked as faithfully 
as she saw, in her womanly knowledge, how to walk. She 
had not tampered with the duties of soul, heart, or another's 
demands. Now she was wrecked on the shoals, and only the 
lighthouse gleaming above her made her battle against the 
waves of night’s despair. She loved intensely, as a woman 

222 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


loves but once in a lifetime, as only a woman reared as Dixie 
was can love — to the end of life. 

But Dixie enjoyed the company of Marmaduke. They 
were the closest of friends. Together they walked, drove, 
and played tennis, croquet, and chess. He laughed out from 
his heart as in the days of his youth. Life was to them a 
May dream. He swept away sorrow and took what the 
gods gave, delighting in the presence of her whom he loved 
as only a Marmaduke can love, giving his all for time and 
eternity. 

On swept the beautiful days of paradise. They were 
not wedded, but they loved each other with a love deeper 
than that of men and women who marry and live on through 
life satisfied with the measure of existence. Of such as the 
latter was neither of these two lives. They claimed the 
Godhead of man’s creation; they were children looking up 
into the skies and seeing the handiwork of a Creator all 
about them. Every flower they plucked was alive with the 
perfection of creation. Man, the last of these creations, had 
strayed back into paradise, after the fall, in crowned man- 
hood and womanhood. It was paradise. Had they not a 
right to live again in the environs of the Garden of Eden? 
Were they not bound by bonds of love? “Where is God?” 
they questioned. Was the Maker true and sincere, with- 
holding no good thing from them who walk uprightly? 

Through nature’s rose gardens of friendship Marmaduke 
and Dixie strolled onward into perfect days. Several weeks 
elapsed, and he could not leave her. She bade him not to 
stay. For him to go was to leave her forever; to stay was 
life. He was weak from the illness of almost a year’s dura- 
tion. 

At length Marmaduke said to her : “When the time comes 
for you to go, go ; but I shall never leave you.” 

223 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“It will not be forever, Basil,” Dixie replied. “I will 
come to you in the great West. The day will come when 
I shall stand by your side, and I shall be free.” 

Marmaduke looked at Dixie as if the soul of the woman 
had swept the stars; he had looked into the secrets of the 
future and had seen fate’s hand drawing them together 
through the space of the years. 

“Will you come, as you promise, Dixie? I will wait for 
you. It will be but a little time, then you will come?” he 
asked, looking eagerly at her, hanging on his faith in her, 
as at first. 

“I will come to you, Basil.” 

They parted, he going to his cottage, she back to her 
room and closing the door. 

The first of May Dixie returned to her Kentucky home, 
taking back with her the two old servants, never to part 
with them again. She left Marmaduke alone at the depot. 

Dixie’s husband met her at the wharf and said: “Your 
color is grand. How lonesome I have been, you can never 
know. Let us go to the hotel for a while, until we can ar- 
range the house to suit you. Everything needs your direc- 
tion. It will take the hand of a woman to understand its 
details.” 

224 


XX. 

THE KENTUCKY HOME. 


The even tenor of life in duty’s lines was maintained by 
Dixie in her new sphere. Her ideals were overthrown. Her 
womanly soul was exasperated, and her sense of honor was 
dethroned. She had unknowingly sealed her life to deceit, 
and it gnawed at the vitals of her soul, defeating her reach 
of life. For days she lay quiet on the drawing-room divan; 
for days her head throbbed with the sense of sickening for- 
feiture of a woman’s true life ; for days she walked back and 
forth, trying to rest. The face of Basil Marmaduke as she 
had left him on the train that last night was not out of her 
vision. He seemed to be in her very presence, his sad 
eyes looking at her and his lips apart, as if speaking, as did 
the statue of Savonarola back in Florence, accusing her of 
destroying both their lives forever. She studied mental te- 
lepathy to see if the spirits of men did commune with 
each other. Often she would start up, expecting Marma- 
duke to step right in at the door, so full was his presence 
in her mind. No physical phenomenon or apparition oc- 
curred, only the powerful presence of the one she loved. 

Charlotte came in to minister to Dixie, saying: “Pore 
chile! I knowed you couldn’t stan’ it. I tole Job you’d 
die ef we’d let yer. I’d sen’ for dat man and tell him to 
take me and be done, missus.” 

“Charlotte, you must not talk that way. I am married, 
and the battle must be fought. You know my life. Why I 
should suffer is all unknown to me.” 

Dixie bestirred herself when her husband came home. 
She was arrayed in an attractive gown. She did not rest, 
day or night; but with wonderful presence of mind she 

15 225 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


kept a strict watch upon herself. She returned the many 
calls which had been made among the friends of her hus- 
band; she joined their clubs and entered into the social 
life of the place. 

Dixie drove to the city each evening for her husband. He 
remarked: *‘It is a pleasant thing to have a wife to come 
down town for me every evening. I never thought I would 
ever be as happy as I am to-day. With your love about me 
I can dare the world.'' 

‘'Dare it; there are heights to climb for every strong 
spirit, ascents for every strong soul," answered his wife. 

“Man does not attain his completeness unless some heav- 
enly spirit leads the way. See how easily I follow !" he said 
in reply. 

“Like some animal tied with ribbon chains. If you ever 
growl, the spell is broken ; the chains will not hold.” 

“I stacked the new magazines in the buggy. They are 
alive with invention. Every need of machinery has broken 
the record. Harper's is vivid with fine illustrations of prog- 
ress,” he said. 

“The Figaro was alive last month with the balloon con- 
quest. The mode would have won Napoleon the Continent. 
They are spinning the world on their finger tips. It deadens 
one's sensibilities to be closed away from the wide-awake 
world. The pulsating wires of progress give abundant ex- 
istence. Man must mix in its live issues,” Dixie said. 

“Yours is the dominant existence to obtain commercial 
ascendancy. A man must watch his opportunity ; to invent 
it, as Edison did, one must have rare talent,” he said. 

“Our own State is the live ground of commerce. See the 
reports of the daily papers ! The Courier-Journal and Cin- 
cinnati Enquirer are running over with news of the Cumber- 
lands. They say the ringing challenge to the world is in its 

226 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


mineral deposits of coal, iron, timber, and incomparable 
agricultural lands. Its scenery is equal to that of the far- 
famed Rockies,” she told him, interested in arousing his 
enthusiasm. 

“Yes, I have been reading every word about the railroads 
meeting there in the untrod wilderness. The immense tun- 
nel underneath the Gap will stimulate trade to the limit. The 
railroad runs through that blue-grass country. The tide 
Avhich flows will be world-stirring,” he said eagerly. 

“I will sell my home place in the South and invest every 
cent I have in this new enterprise. Right in the heart of 
the city, where the large buildings will go up, I will buy,” 
she spoke rapidly. 

“Why, Dixie, you are rash ! It will be months before the 
railroads reach the site. The land is hardly platted,” he 
hurriedly said. 

“Father did not wait for Brazil to expand ; he expanded 
it. I say now, before the railroad reaches the mountains, 
is the time to purchase. The low figure will double in 
amount. Sell when the boom comes.” 

Sunday dawned bright and clear. After attending church, 
Dixie and her husband returned home. Dinner was served, 
and they repaired to the drawing-room to read. Often 
Dixie ran her hand along the chords of her harp, but now 
her soul was not in harmony with music. That afternoon, 
though, she sang, and her husband laid aside his magazines, 
listening. On she sang, sometimes one of the hymns of 
Wesley. A newsboy crying from the street interrupted: 
“Here's your Sunday paper ! All about the mountain boom ! 
Here's the C ourier-J ournal ; here's your Enquirer! All 
about the Middlesboro boom !” 

Mr. Lester went out on the steps, calling: “Here, boy, 
bring me a paper.” 

227 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Up the street the newsboy's voice rang as he sold papers 
about the boom: ‘'Here's your paper! All about the two- 
million-dollar smelter ; all about the three-million-dollar tun- 
nel under the Gap ! Buy a newspaper I Buy a paper I" All 
along the street men came to their doors to buy a paper. 

Dixie's heart was dancing; it was full to the brim. En- 
thusiasm was bursting its bonds. Action was in the air. 
Mr. Lester read the news aloud. The glaring headlines were 
striking in the recountal, entitled “Coming Land of Ken- 
tucky." 

“The blue-grass State has found that her inheritance lies 
not alone in her fertile fields, with running streams, her fine- 
bred stock, her tobacco, her magnificent blue-grass pas- 
tures and palatial homes, which cast their brag to the end of 
the world; not in her brains and polished oratory, which 
challenges every floor of Congress; but in her mountains, 
which have become a world-heralded store of riches. Back 
in the heart of her mountains, which lift their heads into the 
vault of blue sky, is stored the wealth of Golconda mines. 
Here are mountains of the richest iron ore in far richer 
quantities than that of the Lake Superior region. Coal is 
there in enormous banks. There is a tremendous amount 
of timber of all varieties. Lots on the avenue are already 
selling at fifty dollars a front foot. By the time the rail- 
roads reach there it will have advanced to one hundred dol- 
lars. Many buildings are in course of construction. A 
modern, handsome hotel of four hundred rooms is being 
built on a spur overlooking the city site and is approached 
from the avenue by flights of stone steps. The waterworks 
are supplied from a grand flowing spring from the moun- 
tains sufficient to supply Louisville." 

On Mr. Lester read until the piece was concluded. A 
perturbation was visible on his countenance; his eyes were 

228 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


shining; he was arousing. The couchant lion of manhood 
was rearing recumbent strength. Years of indolent wealth 
had struggled sluggishly, strangling the English blood of 
this man’s inheritance. But now he was quivering with 
power. The released lethargy sprang forward, listening to 
opportunity’s knock at the door. He was grasping the hour 
of fruition. 

‘‘What a commercial eruption I What volcanic fire ! It 
is burning my life out to take hold. Lots bought on the ave- 
nue will make a fortune. When the railroad gets there, they 
will have doubled in value. I must go, Dixie. It is the 
chance of a man’s life.” 

“Go, dear,” said Dixie. She came close to him and 
wound her arms about him. “Men must do things, you 
know. Men are made for the crowded marts of world en- 
terprises. Get into the thickest and fight.” 

“And call it your success?” he asked, looking up at her 
face, filled with the pride of a woman who expects her 
husband to grasp the opportunities of life and wrest a man’s 
part. 

“Bosh !” she answered him. “Call it my stimulation. It 
is your State, your awakening. Men use the horoscope of 
far-reaching ventures. Shrewd, alert watchfulness has 
made millionaires of American commercialism.” 

“The hour of dare is now. I leave to-night on the packet 
for the Cumberlands. Have my grip packed.” 

229 


XXI. 

THE CUMBERLAND MOUNTAINS. 

A STEAMBOAT took a single passenger from the wharf of 
the home nestling at the foot of the hills. This same man 
could have been seen alighting from a train at Barboursville 
and mounting a horse, following a relay of other men, all 
bent on the same purpose. The road wound through the 
devious hills and up through between cliffs standing straight 
up from the Cumberland River, which gurgled over a rough, 
rocky bed. The sides of Pine Mountain almost met, except 
where the tossing stream lay between them. The fine air 
was impregnated with an ozone incomparable. The next 
morning they reached the site of a city in an environed am- 
phitheater of the Cumberland Mountains. And yonder rose 
the stalwart Gap, under which the Louisville and Nashville 
Railroad was tunneling a road straight through the moun- 
tains to meet the Tennessee road on the other side. 

The “Middlesboro” was uncompleted. A large tent, sur- 
rounded by smaller ones, revealed the stage of hospitality the 
enterprise had arranged to receive its guests beneath. The 
Town Company had offices of modern proportions. Many 
stone buildings were being erected from the quarries opened, 
which furnished building material of beautiful stone that 
astonished every one. All the way down the principal thor- 
oughfare were structures in course of erection, all of the 
superb white stone from the Cumberland quarries. Many 
of these buildings were from three to five stories high and 
of modern design. These included an elegant post office, 
a library, and the Town Company’s showrooms, in which 
were displayed all the ores, coal, stone, and lumber, cut 
crossways, revealing hard, firm, exquisite graining; cannel 
230 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


coal, which could be handled with kid gloves without soiling 
them, was in the showrooms. Stores were open, selling ev- 
ery available necessity. There was a constant stream of 
wagons hauling all manner of building stuff ; and vans filled 
with household goods and supplies came from the depot 
across the mountain, hauling the goods several miles to ac- 
commodate the large number of workmen doing construc- 
tive work. 

A letter to Dixie by the close of the week recounted the 
above, adding that the story was but half told. It was the 
most artistic location in the world — like a Geneva, like a 
jewel in the heart of an amphitheater of mountains, drained 
by the euphoniously-named Yellow Creek. The climate was 
the draw of the world. The place was alive, commercially 
hot. In his life Mr. Lester had never seen things so filled 
with the “go” of men. 

Mr. Lester had purchased a block of lots and had given 
a contract for an office to be built within three days on the 
rear end of one of his corner lots. He was having a sign 
painted, “Daniel N. Lester, Real Estate.” 

Within a few months Mr. Lester and his wife were es- 
tablished at the Middlesboro Hotel, now finished and opened 
to the rush which was undiminished and increasing daily. 

“The first train comes through the tunnel Sunday, Dixie. 
If you wish to go, be ready, and we will go down to meet 
the cars. They say that ten or twelve coaches will be in the 
make-up, and three of these will come during the day. It 
will stir up things, I think,” said Mr. Lester at breakfast. 

“I would not miss the initial trains for worlds. It will 
chronicle events men seldom witness. The entering of rail- 
ways into this wilderness means an activity which States 
seldom have. It will be a jubilee,” his wife replied. 

“Such enthusiasm in our women is correct. It strength- 
231 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


ens man for good work, which nothing else offers. Mr. 
Stein, from Montreal, whom I told you about, asked me 
what I had at home which made me so invincible,” Mr. 
Lester said in answer to his wife. 

“The reports that you bring me of deals which only the 
old, shrewd business man makes assure me of an inborn tal- 
ent which my brainy husband has hid away in a napkin; 
being put in the affairs of men, it is ‘steel cut steel.* ** 

“Mr. Stein is down here from Montreal. He wanted me 
to take him in as a partner. I sold him a block of lots 
which netted me enough to build that home down on the 
Cumberland lot you bought for your residence. It is not 
a partner I want; it is skins I am after, and the best of 
them,** said Mr. Lester. 

“You will get them. The nation is sending her bravest 
and best to tempt the tide in the affairs of men. As it built 
in its integrity, so its sons must breast the turn of the tide 
which sweeps on to fortune,** answered his wife. 

At a quarter to six o*clock a shrill whistle sent its alarm 
shrieking through the mountains, sending its echo reverber- 
ating back into the cliffs. Like some loosened animal blow- 
ing steam from its nostrils, the locomotive cavorted, backed, 
and went ahead. At last it stopped at the depot, in the cen- 
ter of a crowd of human beings waving handkerchiefs, hats, 
umbrellas, and standing on the tops of barrels and boxes 
shouting their exuberance. The live beings sprang from the 
coaches, stumbling over each other, rushing to the busses, 
hacks, and even wagons lined with seats lengthwise to ac- 
commodate the struggling crowd. Those that could not get 
conveyances took up a march to the “Middlesboro,” on the 
hill, blackening the road leading to the upper portion of the 
building city. 

232 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Dixie was overcome with delight and gurgled a laugh of 
intense joy. 

"Can’t you stop laughing, Dixie? These men will see 
you,” said Mr. Lester, repressing a smile as he took her 
arm, and they started up the street, following the crowd. 

"Nature asserts itself occasionally, my lord. To laugh 
and laugh again is my desire. You, too, are establishing 
your prerogative to the day’s success. If I were you, I 
would halloo like a man,” she insisted. 

The throttle of the whistle seemed to be throbbing with 
steam all day. Trains entered Middlesboro all the morning. 
Blast after blast was made from them as soon as they 
hove in sight of the city. The deafening arousal called 
every conveyance in the place to receive passengers from 
its lines. The Louisville and Nashville Railroad had en- 
tered the terminus of its road into the mine of Golconda’s 
wealth. 

The utmost capacity of the hotels, boarding houses, and 
tents was strained to meet the influx from Paris, Danville, 
Lexington, Versailles, and even sleepy Frankfort. The cap- 
ital took off a gala day to see what the brag of the city of 
the mountains had in its environs. 

Over the Gap to the palatial "Four Seasons” the people 
went by train to see what a stupendous structure, embracing 
seven hundred rooms, meant in the hills. They found in it 
hot and cold water. Mineral baths had compelled its erec- 
tion. Further, the president of the company had an es- 
tate surrounded by a British wall five feet in height and 
barred with an iron gate of double width. Sitting back in 
the shrubbery was an edifice of white stone seemingly im- 
ported with the "git-up” of the English in its detail of ve- 
randas, of palace proportions and breadth of estate. 

Up at the "Middlesboro” men met and talked with the busi- 

233 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


ness men of the place. It seemed as if Aladdin had rubbed 
his lamp. 

“The sights you have here are past belief. It would take 
men years to do what you all have accomplished within a 
year. The brains and action are superb. Such a view !“ 
as he pointed to the majestic hills and toward the uplifted 
Gap of the Cumberland Mountains. “The site of the city 
is unsurpassed. The peculiar ozone so advertised by the 
papers is superior to the stuff the papers talked about. Why, 
man, the place is extraordinary !” 

“When the city is finished we will have a quarter of a 
million people here. It has every advantage of a metropolis, 
every need of a city. We are locating manufactories to 
consume our products. We are shipping coal and building 
stone, and soon the output of our steel plant will be shipped 
to the radius of the Middle States. We have donned the 
standard of a metropolis second to none,*' answered Mr. 
Lester, the foremost real estate man of Middlesboro. 

The exposition rooms were the central place of attraction. 
Autos stood waiting to take sight-seers to the mines and 
show them the utility of building a city. The quarries had 
huge blocks lying in front of them as large and as long 
as the stone in front of the cathedral of Florence which 
had been hacked at by sculptors, but which, after Michelan- 
gelo had carved his “David** out of it and set it up in Flor- 
ence, the world came to see and copy. Men were astounded 
at the richness of the products. The timber was shown in 
such quantities that it was the sight of a man's life. Every 
kind of wood in beautiful development was growing there. 
The almost priceless red cedar was plentiful. The lower floor 
of the Middlesboro Hotel was put down in cedar, and the ho- 
tel over the Gap also used it extensively. The steel furnace 
was the dominant force of city construction. This was the 

234 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


flocking point of men. Its proportions demanded enthusi- 
asm. The immense plant covered acres of ground. It 
would be three years in building. The fiery nostrils of this 
dragon of commerce would put hundreds of men to work, 
making necessary more homes and larger demand for sup- 
plies. It thrilled men to the center of their being. Many 
determined then and there to move to the place and enter 
for business. The stimulation was exacting. Men of large 
enterprises, of planing mills, sash and door manufactories, 
plate-glass and paint concerns — all lines of commerce saw 
the opportunity and acted upon incentive. 

The sale of lots consumed three days. An auctioneer of 
fame handled it. Selling began early, lots rising in value 
momentarily and going like fine pictures under the hammer. 
Up, up, like a balloon, soared the priceless dirt. Men bought 
avenue lots, manufactory sites, and residence lots. The 
scramble was record-breaking. The auctioneer said that he 
had never before seen men who understood values as this 
class of buyers did. Most of the buyers were wide-awake 
city men. It was a great opportunity for them, the auction- 
eer claimed. 

“Ozone !” a man shouted. 

“Climate !” another one hallooed. 

“Scenery V* a third said. 

“Opportunity!” the auctioneer said. “It knocks once at 
a man^s door. The railroads knew it. They built the tun- 
nel under the Gap.” 

All the men shouted then. The sales prices went like shot 
from a loaded gun with such impetus that it was almost im- 
possible for the secretary to record the sales. 

After the sales closed each afternoon at three o'clock, 
men came to the real estate office of Mr. Lester hunting 
bargains. He took them down to the avenue and gave 

235 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


inside prices on the choicest lots which a Pineville syndicate 
had intrusted to him. He said their lands were worth a mil- 
lion dollars. He also took them out to the timbered lands 
and located hundreds of acres of the coal mines and sold un- 
touched mines of rich value and thickness. He took the 
manufacturer to the lands adjacent to the railroads and gave 
the closest of inside prices. He located residence properties 
by the acre on knoll and jut, all lying in view of the moun- 
tains and the city below. Magnetic, inflated with the radium 
seldom found on poor soil, Mr. Lester sold popular loca- 
tions right in the heat of the enterprise now making for 
prosperity. 

‘^Mr. Lester,^* said another real estate dealer, “I have 
several friends here from Louisville. Show them that prop- 
erty we were talking about. They will buy, I think, if the 
prices are right. I will be back presently. 

“Come with me, gentlemen,’’ said Mr. Lester, escorting 
them down the avenue right where he had located several 
business men from Lexington. “Here Mr. Wallace pur- 
chased; here Mr. Sragmore; and here” — stepping a hun- 
dred paces on before them — “is the prettiest piece of all. 
Colonel Henderson, from Danville, landed this in his hands 
at an early hour this morning before the sales began.” Mr. 
Lester took out a handful of cigars, passed them around, 
sat down on a log in near proximity, bit off the end of his 
own cigar, and continued : “Men show their faith in a city 
from advantages it offers. We have all the products needed 
to make a tremendous enterprise, and we are doing it. Coal 
lands ill thousands of acres back every manufacturer. He 
gets cheap fuel, and that item of expense is eradicated. The 
smelter will furnish labor for several hundred hands. Its 
enormous output will establish confidence in surrounding 
States. Our timber industry is exporting rough lumber to 
236 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


most of the towns of our State. Freight cars loaded with 
lumber leave several times a week. What can stop such 
development? The time to buy lots in a developing city is 
on the ground floor/* he concluded in crisp business tones. 

“We see it, Lester; we see it. A man doesn’t look 
through a millstone and find opportunity. It is right here, 
and plenty of it. We had better load up these lots. In a 
year the prices will be double, as Mr. Lester says,” said the 
Lexington man to his friends. “When Colonel Henderson 
buys, you may be sure that it is a bargain.” 

They went up to the office and had deeds made out. 
Lots, coal lands, and timber rights were passed over to them. 
That night they left for the interior cities. 

The triumph of the first sale ended, sending the blast of 
the boom pulsating and quivering through the great struc- 
ture of commerce. The newspapers sent it irradiating on- 
ward in shafts of light to the borders of the nation. Let- 
ters, telegrams, and men answered the summons in relays 
to pick up the bargains left after the first sale. 

237 


XXII. 

A HOME IN THE CUMBERLANDS. 

“Wife, I sold lots on the avenue at two hundred and fifty 
dollars a foot, making a profit of ten thousand dollars. Six 
months ago they cost me fifty dollars a front foot. The 
money goes right back into avenue lots for the next sale. 
But you can build that house now, if you want to. The 
place is a go,*' Mr. Lester said the day after the sales closed, 
when his spirits had gone to the thermometer's top, filled 
with enthusiasm for the success of the city. 

“All right. We will use here the same plans we had 
drawn for the home place. I want the library furnished in 
red cedar, with beamed ceiling, set-in bookcases and cabi- 
nets, and doors in old Venetian. Many of the furnishings 
from the South will be shipped to me, and it will be like 
home again," his wife replied. 

“Arrange it to suit yourself, Dixie. Your desires are all 
I have to minister to. I met an East Indian at the sales. 
He is the shrewdest man I believe I ever met; he bought 
coal lands, timber rights, and a block of stock in the Watts 
furnaces. He is a lace manufacturer and will build a lace 
and white-goods factory. I may bring him to supper. I 
want you to meet him, and Mr. Stein says he thinks I owe it 
to him to introduce him to my wife. He rides that big black 
horse you see so often. He is a typical Englishman. Do 
you wish him to come with the Calcutta man this evening?" 

“If they are your friends, I shall make an effort to enter- 
tain them. We have been away from our friends so long 
that I feel like a stranger amid the hosts of people passing 
and repassing. You cannot make acquaintances except with 
the few ladies of the Town Company. It will be a delight- 

238 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


ful accession to our list to add your friends,” acquiesced his 
wife. 

Supper was served for four that night at Mr. Lester’s 
table at the Middlesboro Hotel. Mr. Lester’s friends came 
to the drawing-room of the hotel exactly at six o’clock. 
Mr. Lester and his wife were waiting for them; and, after 
introductions, they strolled into the dining room, Mrs. Les- 
ter and Mr. Stein preceding. The table was ensconced in 
a retired portion of the dining room behind a clump of 
palms. An elaborate menu was served, which had been ar- 
ranged by Mrs. Lester and the chef. The chat, of course, 
was bounded by the commercial enterprises of the day, in- 
terspersed with bits of talk about the places of residence of 
the two guests. After supper they returned to the parlors, 
where they enjoyed the evening talking of the proposed 
new home which Mr. and Mrs. Lester had decided to erect 
on the avenue at the right of the hotel on the jutting, with 
several acres left for a landscape. Mr. Smith spoke of the 
lace manufactory which he came to locate. 

The construction of the Lester home began. The foun- 
dation was laid, and lumber and stone for the building was 
on the ground. The Queen Anne architecture called for a 
spacious residence. The plans were envied by many of the 
gentlemen awaiting their wives, contemplating building; 
also the site, being accessible to the street and sufficiently 
above it. 

“Don’t build on this lot.” “This lot is not for sale.” 
“This lot is part of the estate.” “A fine of five thousand 
dollars if this lot is molested.” Signs reading every threat 
known to the mountain catalogue were in evidence on one 
lot. On every corner, side, back, and front it was plastered 
with signs. 

Mrs. Lester heard ringing laughter from the reception 

239 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


room of their suite. She hurried in her dressing gown to 
see what possessed her husband, that he was enjoying such 
an outburst of laughter and fun. 

“What can be the matter, dear? You are greatly amused 
at something.'' 

Mr. Lester was leaning over pulling on his shoes, but 
stopped long enough to point to the window and say : “Look 
at the lot where your house is going up.” And he broke 
into another uncontrollable paroxyism of laughter. 

After dressing, Mr. Lester hastened down the elevator, 
out the foyer, and crosswise down the grounds to where his 
residence was being built. Several of the gentlemen down- 
stairs ran after him. Numbers passing down the street to 
their business joined the party, seeing the placards. All 
were laughing. Numbers came from the hotel, too, asking: 
“What's the fun?” 

“Diversified talent was dormant in this ingenious brain. 
It is a display of mountain protest. It is not a carbine, but 
a volley of placards. He did it up right. These are legis- 
lative tactics. This is his work,” said Mr. Lester. 

“Our mountain Representative has evidently vindicated 
his claim to a seat in legislative halls. This is true mountain 
allegiance. It is a perfect picture of devotion to home in- 
terests. What is the need of recounting the deeds of brave 
men? This shrewd legislator is adopting methods of maneu- 
ver that even astute Von Moltke is outdone by,” said Mr. 
Stein. 

“It was done in the silent hours of midnight. See Ham- 
let with his dagger steal upon his friend! He now stalks 
the corridors of his palace, fearful,” said Mr. Smith, the 
Calcutta gentleman. 

They climbed back to the hotel grounds for breakfast. 
But few of the guests ate, they were so convulsed with 

240 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


humor at the situation ; only ringing laughter emitted from 
their throats. 

Legislative tactics were the talk for days. The Represent- 
ative suddenly left for Frankfort on urgent business. But 
the story came out in the newspapers. As he sat at coffee 
the men of the house made it so hot for him asking a de- 
scription of the placards that he left for Louisville. But the 
clubs got the news there and ran the topic of town chat to a 
finish. The papers said it would be well for those who 
needed tutelage to apply the requisition to the Representa- 
tive, as he excelled all astute lawyers in the State. 

The purchase money was returned to Lester. Down on 
the Ridgeway Road he purchased a lot of several acres, cut 
a driveway, terraced the lot to the street, had a Florentine 
artist to landscape it, and built a magnificent place. 
i6 241 


XXIIL 


A CITY CHARTER. 

Middlesboro had attained a population of ten thousand. 
A city charter was in order. Citizens had discussed such 
a proceeding for weeks. Investments in this new region 
had stimulated the location of a reliable citizenship accus- 
tomed to law and order. City construction was the main 
object of the urgent demand and, naturally, good city gov- 
ernment. 

The morning paper announced, in large type, the call of 
the citizens to a nomination of business men for mayor and 
councilmen. To vote for men of known reliability was the 
demand of the new city. Middlesboro stood, industrially, 
ahead of her sister cities, and it behooved them to take a 
place in legislative city government. To pattern by any- 
thing less than Louisville was to fall short of its best effort. 
A mass meeting was in order to frame a charter, elect men, 
and incorporate a board for city administration. 

The evening announced found an enthusiastic gathering 
of citizens in the auditorium in readiness for a body to con- 
duct the affairs of the city. It was a good citizens’ meeting. 
It was filled with *‘go.” They were to make their choice 
of the stanch, spirited citizens in city construction. 

“Paramount to all else is reliability,” said the town man- 
ager as he rose to his feet and struck the gavel for order. 
“You will now announce candidates for mayor,” he said. 

Only one announcement was made for mayor. It was 
the town manager. 

“First councilman,” he called. 

“Daniel Lester,” was all the crowd said. 

The second, third, and fourth councilmen were an- 
242 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


nounced without opposition. When the nominations for the 
fifth councilman were called for, the fun began. Two were 
named for the fifth councilman. The labor element had run 
in their candidate. This was hissed repeatedly. But the 
ballot ran in protest, and a contractor was elected as the fifth 
councilman. 

The candidate then asked for the salary question to be 
settled. This brought on heated discussion. For several 
years taxation was merely for streets, sewerage, lighting 
system, bridges, the city jail, and public demands. The 
good citizens' movement was headed by Mr. Lester, who 
announced that the platform of his party was, “No salary.” 

“Speech ! Speech, Lester ! Speech !” 

Called by the hosts of men gathered in the tremendous 
auditorium, he lifted his voice in the assembly and spoke di- 
rectly to the point. The men could not see him; so he 
climbed upon the table where the mayor-elect sat and in 
ringing words demanded that the service should be volun- 
tary. 

“The city is in embryo, a foundling at the mercy of its 
citizens,” said Mr. Lester. “Its expenses will be far be- 
yond its income for the period of construction of sewerage, 
streets, and lighting system. Also a jail must be built and 
the demands of officers met. We are but beginning our 
city. Our efforts are superhuman, men say. Why not use 
an ideal effort also in furthering the plans of city govern- 
ment ? Give your thought, purpose, and an occasional hour 
to formulate power for this upbuilding. Why does a man 
want to see the handiwork of his effort pay him in dollars? 
He has enthusiasm, soul purpose, and manhood's interest. 
Give it, like you have all else here, to fructify a complete 
whole. We are men able to fight and able to give.'' 

The men shouted their applause, stamped, and hurled 

243 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


their hats in the air for sound reasons. Others with dark, 
heavy brows complained : “Man wants pay for his labor. 
The vote was taken — “Salary.'' 

“Graft! Graft in the air! Graft!" was ominous, reso- 
nant. Men filed out of the auditorium with defeat in the 
city’s need of dependable men stamped on their faces. The 
city seemed to be disowned and fatherless. 

Men take the personnel of a city to define the construc- 
tive ability. Here on the platform stood men born in the 
land of Kentucky and suffused with her prodigality; in- 
deed, like her progenitors, with large constructive force, 
able, forceful, and intelligent. They had followed the blazed 
way, founded a city’s enterprise, and laid the foundation of 
a commercial metropolis. 

The labor of the day now was to strengthen the lines of 
the State's enterprise and join here at the young city forces 
of progress. The tunneling of the Gap conjoined two 
States' railway lines, projecting in the unopened wilderness 
teeming with millions of tons of coal, forest growth, and iron 
in untold quantities, the mineralogist reported. It opened to 
a secluded territory the advantages of communication. 

The papers announcing the candidates were sent back to 
the home place of Mr. Lester. Many congratulatory letters 
were received upon his so early demanding the attention of 
the citizens. It was an achievement commercially for him, 
socially an acknowledgment to yield him a place, according 
to his patriotism, which was every true citizen's best asset. 

Mr. Lester wrote a letter to the home paper. This 
aroused the young men whose family estates furnished suf- 
ficient for social demands; but unawakened powers slowly 
had drifted into the inevitable saloon, gambling halls, and 
surfeited the dormant soul. This word of cheer rang a 
clarion blast among his former companions and dominated 

244 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the hour, assisting to locate scores of able, listless drift- 
wood and to reach an altitude of manhood's endeavor. 

The pristine glory of demolished estates was regained. 
The sickly sallowness of inactive bodies took on the hue of 
health; the quick tread and bright eye spoke intelligent- 
ly; the whining indifference was replaced by crisp utter- 
ances. The young man's world of social precedent was 
alive with possibility. 


245 


XXIV. 

THE JUNE SALE. 

Advertisement of the Middlesboro project was stimu- 
lated by a systematic course of world advertisement which 
was original and unique. The red and blue posters had 
been pasted all over the cars of coal, lumber, and other 
exports sent from the town. This had a radius of the two 
seaboards. Kentucky coal had no limit in national borders. 
White building stone also had its important orders on com- 
mercial tapis and flung its standard to the nation. The 
public buildings were contracted only for Kentucky white 
stone. It was one of the chief importations, and its cars 
were also pasted with the brag of yonder lands of white 
granite. 

Her manufactories had not completed the tremendous 
enterprises, few except improvised door and sash factories, 
and commodities of daily supply stood for the far supplies 
which native products gave. This was so imperial that it 
was demanded, furnished, and continually called for. The 
red and blue posters sent to the ends of the earth were bring- 
ing results astonishing to all. Men in every hamlet and 
town also received these posters with the daily papers, fall- 
ing out as they opened their dailies and weeklies, telling of 
smelters, tanneries, and lumber industries, all of native 
product. The flaunting claim of banks of coal, of mam- 
moth deposits of iron ores, climate, and rare ozone found 
wearied men insistent on investigating the astounding brag. 
Inquiry into the truth of the statements came by mail and 
telegraph — if they owned the earth and had a ring around 
it, like the man who found the pole after Cook. 

246 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The posters had reached the Pacific ; had gone to Texas, 
Colorado, Oregon, which States sent inquiries as to whether 
the claims were true, good, bona Me. Men had a purpose 
in investigating the word they had sent into all the world. 

“Business is hot. It is serving a juicy steak on a hot 
platter. It is rare, appetizing, and exceedingly nourishing. 
It is the time of our lives downtown. The place has gone 
mad,^* said Mr. Lester to his wife a few days before the 
June sale. 

“Your simile is exceedingly appropriate. But who was 
the chef? Didn't the broiling have something to do with 
it?” she asked, interested at his fine humor and apparent 
satisfaction. 

“Her array of charm is as seductive as Pittsburgh's, her 
scenic as Denver's. She will surpass both in time, situated, 
as she is, near the Mason and Dixon line. She is open to 
the aristocratic South as a health resort and to the commer- 
cial bonds of the North as an investment. Her force of 
management is the winning card. Seeding her harvests, 
she will brim her granaries,” he concluded. 

“Manufacture is now its work. Our support must be in 
utilizing our own products. Wood-working enterprises, iron 
works, and a cutlery foundry should be located. The Watts 
furnaces will supply the regions with enormous exports. 
The city will be made,” she answered her husband. 

Off to the Middle West the farmers had in their crops. 
The flaming posters had aroused their desire to retrace their 
steps to the land of their forefathers and see the Cumber- 
land Mountains. What had they to outrival everything on 
earth? Down yonder where the land agent located the Tex- 
as farmer the heat was swimming about the top of Fahren- 
heit. He took off his hat and mopped his brow; and as he 
stood holding his hat, hoping that a stray breeze might fan 

247 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


his face, he mused: “I was in town Saturday, and that 
poster on the cars was exactly the same thing which fell 
out of my last week’s paper. That poster talked big things 
for old Kentucky. Who would have thought that the old 
State had such wealth hidden away in its old hills? What 
do I want to bum my life out away down here in Texas 
for? I was born a white man, by gosh ! I’ll go back to the 
State of my birth, to the June sale. If they have found iron 
there, I’ll put the farm on sale and go back to civilization.” 

Away over on a Dakota ranch a man old before his years 
raised his eyes and looked over the long, swelling valley 
and said : ‘‘What will a man give in exchange for his soul ? 
To live here with burros is death to a man’s well-being. 
Communication with a fellow being is necessary to exist- 
ence. I long for the land of man.” 

All over the land grunts of dissatisfaction were heard. 
Telegrams were sent engaging rooms for men in parties, 
and replies came in quick return : “ ‘Come and see’ is our 
watchword of victory.” 

Telegrams announced to the Town Company the demand 
for tents. Knoxville was rung up by long-distance tele- 
phone, and ten thousand tents, cots, and chairs were or- 
dered to supply the invasion of tourists to see the wonders 
of the Cumberland Valley. 

The loaded trains commenced coming in. Up from 
Charleston over the Southern Atlantic Railroad came thou- 
sands, catching the waiting trains from Atlanta and Chatta- 
nooga. Up from Texas came the chartered cars. On from 
the coast, hurtling over broad prairies, came the millionaire 
special. 

The great boundless Northwest sent her investors. Peo- 
ple from the notable Northern cities came in by trainloads. 
The Canadian heart responded to the call of her English 

248 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


children and came to eat special spoil obtained from the 
mountaineer for a pittance and made into a metropolis. A 
gala day of ripe plums it was. 

The New Yorker, rapacious, keen, scenting the shrewd 
bargains, brought the market insight to investigate the brag 
of the South. Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, and teeming Iowa, 
not filled with the strangled glutting of corn, reached their 
talons over their border State for a coup d ' etat. 

Dixie sat on the veranda overlooking the white asphalt 
street which wound by her home on up to the Middlesboro 
Hotel and watched the faces of the dominant American busi- 
ness men. How easy it was to decide the patent of physiog- 
nomy! She saw the stirring, quick New Yorker; the opu- 
lent Californian; the sombreroed Texan; the high-bred 
Southerner, whose ascendancy over the rest it was impossi- 
ble to miss; the sturdy Westerner; the Canadian; and the 
Chicagoan, who was particularly dominant — owned all the 
earth and had a ring about it. 

The “Four Seasons'' had especially furnished apartments 
for the dear “four hundred," who could foot the bill of four 
dollars a day. It flooded over into the smaller additions 
surrounding the hot springs. Men stood on the magnificent 
verandas, lifted up as an observatory above the surrounding 
country, and broke out into enthusiastic speech, remarking : 
“What vigor latitude gives !" 

“The crowded cars and stifling heat wore me out. What 
ozonic inflation is here, refreshing exhausted humanity!" 
said the California millionaire in a polite drawl. “I have 
not had such an air bath of tonic properties since I was 
a boy. I was bom not quite fifty miles from here. I am 
a descendant of the Kentucky Beauregards. Whew! Did 
you ever see such an upheaval in business as this enter- 

249 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


prise?'' he concluded as he gurgled out a laugh from his 
overstocked delight. 

“I thought when gold was found in California, in 1848, 
that it was the finest State without gold in the nation. But 
back here old Kentucky flaunts her pride in the air in the 
discovery of iron, and she has won the pennant, too," said 
his accompanying friend. 

“Aye," intruded their Black Hills' friend, “these old hills 
were not piled up here for nothing. See what else it pro- 
duces! The coal in the banks has not a better run. See 
her towering forests ! The timber rights alone are fabulous 
wealth ; and now iron is discovered. She is the richest State 
in the Union. And her people" — and here he rubbed his 
hands together and laughed good-naturedly — “they do not 
hold the almighty dollar as the earth's circumference. When- 
ever I meet them in the West, I hold their hands a long 
time and look into their faces with a long, deep look. I 
shall not see their like again soon. It is a long-felt need of 
man's better soul. And her stock — we never fatten stock 
out West on prairie grass like they do back here where it 
grows so sweet. It makes me hungry myself every time I 
think about it." 

“Ah," broke in a Des Moines man with swaggering 
step, “Kentucky has a lofty boast of owning the earth, iron 
and all! I crossed the Mississippi in the fifties and have 
seen it grow into such opulence that it has crowned the 
Western States for corn. But my heart gets soft and tick- 
lish when the mountains send their challenge for a new 
city building here in the mountains. I was born back in 
the town of Paducah, and the State owns me for her enter- 
prise. If she's got iron, she can have me back. I am a 
furnace man, and I have money to invest.” 

Prospectors had gone back to the mines to examine into 
250 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the truth of the startling posters. A relay of horses had 
taken the timber expert to the forests to see native timber 
in its virgin growth in nature’s prodigal soil. 

Up the Cumberland Mountains climbed the hosts of 
sight-seers, past the traditional Gap, to view from this point 
of vantage the four States conjoining at this point. The 
Alleghany Mountains rose far off to the north; and the 
Blue Ridge Mountains were visible, encircled with a blue 
haze. Standing on the prominence which the mountains lift- 
ed up so regally, they stepped down into a declivity and 
viewed the tall obelisk of rock standing like some image of 
colossal man in the lone heights, the inheritor of the range, 
undisturbed, a giant. 

Many entered the cave beneath the mountain to view 
the magnificent. Here nature had carved with chisel a 
wondrous laboratory of stalactite and stalagmite. Curiously 
and wonderfully he had carved the austere and defiant of 
rugged images and hidden it beneath the Cumberland Moun- 
tains, one of the matchless sights of nature. Room after 
room was traversed, always holding on to the railing of the 
board walk as a waterfall gurgled down its shaly floor, end- 
ing in a pool. Electric bulbs threw a weird, flickering light 
about the white prison of carved stones. 

The crowd then went up to the vast reservoir to see where 
nature had arranged the water supply of the mammoth un- 
dertaking. Here, at the jut of a peak, flowed a vast moun- 
tain spring, which tumbled down like some cataract, but 
now mastered for the benefit of thirsty humanity. It of- 
fered pure, cold water, impregnated with life-giving miner- 
als, but perfectly tasteless. The vat was like a lake in 
cerulean blue ; and the vast spring, pouring unceasingly its 
powerful stream into the basin of man’s modeling, was piped 
to yonder city, the highest altitude of man’s Babel. 

251 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The sales were called at ten o’clock. Several strong con- 
versations of hona fide confidence were reported in the 
morning News. One article was from the dominant New 
Yorker, and another was from the California millionaire. 
Also a New Orleans banker had given a witty and con- 
clusive write-up in the spicy, rare way of an alert South- 
erner. Men began gathering on the ground at an early 
hour. The buyer was in dead earnest. The afternoon in- 
spection ran the buyer up to thermometer heat. 

“You have seen what we are offering,” said the auction- 
eer. “Our resources have determined you. Here is the 
superb region of pure air, surrounded by the mountains 
and backed by the minerals in undoubted resources. Lying 
yonder on the tracks, our timber properties are invaluable 
possessions, yet it is but a pittance of our claim. We have 
iron, the first factor of commercial life. See the buildings 
going up! The city is but a year old. Here is the white 
stone post office, there the enormous auditorium. Look at 
the numerous completed store buildings, all of white build- 
ing stone, the product of the Cumberland Mountains. Our 
waterworks construction — has man seen such a sight ? Per- 
haps in Glasgow, supplied by Lake Katrine. The railroad 
facilities are adequate to transfer traffic to both coasts. We 
are now supplying many cities with coal, stone, and lumber. 
The railroads converged and spent millions of dollars to 
intersect here in an untrodden wilderness alive with possi- 
bilities, but till then inaccessible. As they invested, so the 
Englishman scented territory and, sleuthlike, burrowed his 
way into acquiring property rights of the boundless oppor- 
tunity, discovering untold wealth stored in nature’s maga- 
zine unknown to the overbursting grasp of Americanism. 
They rode through Daniel Boone’s blazed way in mud 
three feet deep prospecting, and they located this golden 

252 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


mine of advantages. Now that the trains can bring you to 
view the magnificent scenic values they bought with Eng- 
lish gold, they want to sell it to you at the prices Ameri- 
ca can easily afford to pay. The land is valuable, rich, on 
demand, and filled to the brim. What am I offered for this 
avenue lot here on the corner across from the new post 
office?^' 

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” bid the New Orleans banker. 

“Sixteen thousand,” said the New Yorker, holding up his 
hand. 

“Only sixteen thousand dollars for this pride of comer 
lots ! The city will be a great metropolis in a couple of years, 
then it will be worth one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 
What am I bid ? Going, going” — 

“Twenty thousand,” cried the San Francisco multimil- 
lionaire, reaching up a hand as he did on the floor of the 
pit. 

“Twenty-two thousand,” said the New Yorker. 

“Twenty-five thousand,” cried the Chicagoan, getting up 
on a box in his proximity. 

“Going, going, s-o-l-d!” 

They crossed the street to the south side, where lay a 
range of lots with a beautiful smooth surface, unexposed to 
the evening sun. The auctioneer showed them the lay of 
the land, where it faced the magnificent six-story block of 
the company’s offices. 

“Here is the choicest of the uptown sites. Back of it 
runs the canal, which will be an esplanade lighted with elec- 
troliers in a triple light. Along the walk of white asphalt 
will be trees of forest growth, planted by expert hands. 
Men can afford to pay for location. What am I offered for 
six of these desirable lots in this block? What are you of- 
fering?” 


253 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Thirty thousand dollars,” cried a Charleston buyer. 

“That man wants the earth and all the trinkets thrown in. 
What does the St. Louis man say to the bid of the Charles- 
ton buyer?” asked the auctioneer. 

“Thirty-five thousand,” he replied. 

“Is that all ? We must get prices up to the city standard.” 
Turning to the New Yorker, who had given a write-up in 
the News of that morning, he said : “What did you pay over 
in Manhattan for that block of lots you purchased last 
year?” 

“One hundred and twenty thousand dollars.” 

“Aye! If so, what are you calculating to offer for Mid- 
dlesboro city lots ?” 

“Forty thousand,” he replied. 

“Going, going — s-o-l-d 1” 

The afternoon was spent in touring the environs of the 
place. Many invaded the real estate offices. Many lots 
sold as at previous sales. The market was perceptibly teem- 
ing upward. Exchanges were made hourly, deeds filed, and 
checks drawn; and life flourished for the city of the Cum- 
berlands. 

“Gentlemen, yesterday you bought lots on the upper ave- 
nue. To-day I have brought you down to the center of our 
circumference. This is the business street of the coming 
metropolis. Here is where the mammoth sculpture will be 
constructed, in the center of this street two hundred feet 
wide, each structure of rounded corners. The English city 
of Middlesborough will donate to it the name. It will be of 
white granite from the matchless quarries of the hills yon- 
der. The figures will be from the synonym of the idea, two 
colossal statues, Uncle Johnny and Uncle Sam, clasping 
hands over a sea filled with miniature shipping. About its 
base will be grouped the implements which are constructed 

254 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


from the metals pouring from the mines at its feet. Sur- 
rounding it will be a stone basin. A fountain will gush from 
these myriad implements. Its cost is limitless; but it is 
intended to perfect the ideal of city construction, ornament- 
ing, refreshing man in mundane affairs. Here we have 
reserved the entire space on this side. Yonder Lester, the 
magnetic real estate man they chose for first councilman, 
owns. He believed and bought and will build a structure of 
white stone. The building restrictions naturally demand it. 
What do you offer, in your faith of the future city, for the 
comer here V* 

‘‘Fifty thousand dollars,” drawled the Pittsburgh iron 
master. 

“Fifty thousand 1 What did you pay back in the seventies 
for that comer lot on Pennsylvania Avenue, where the Penn 
Block is ?” asked the auctioneer. 

“Seventy-five thousand,” he answered. 

“What are we to get, with surpassing opportunities ?” 

“Fifty-five thousand,” interrupted the Denver financier. 

“Our buildings accentuate finance. Our smelter lying 
there, covering blocks, determines the city’s place amid her 
sister cities. We are here with substance of importance. 
We are constmctors. What are you paying for values we 
have ?” asked the auctioneer. 

“Sixty thousand,” cried out the Atlanta buyer. 

“Now prices are just in the limit of a future city. When 
these enormous blocks go up, the avenue will look like a 
miniature Wall Street.” 

On the sales continued for several days. Residence lots 
were sold by acreage, factory sites by the tracts, and man- 
ufactory locations. The closing banquet furnished the pros- 
pectors an opportunity for reaching the altitude of the so- 
cial life characterizing the Southern cities’ enterprises. The 

255 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


social life of the city had been invited by the Commercial 
Club, headed by Mr. Lester, to attend an entertainment at 
the “Four Seasons,'' across the Gap. Relays of busses 
would accommodate those desirous of accepting the invita- 
tion. The spacious reception rooms, parlors, and commo- 
dious halls had been proffered them as a suitable place for 
the banquet. Toasts had been arranged by a few specialists. 

The evening of the banquet was upon them. Men and 
fair women gathered at the magnificent hotel, which was 
lighted from its glittering dome to its bulb-gemmed veran- 
das rimning outside its structure, an entire spacious boule- 
vard. 

Dixie went, leaning on the arm of her husband. She was 
arrayed in a white crepe de Chine gown, made en train. 
Diamonds sparkled in her hair, depended on her rounded 
throat, and gleamed in single drops in her ears. The fine 
form of her husband lifted itself among the strangers about 
them and proclaimed the statue men attain. 

The hotel's drawing-rooms were packed to breathlessness, 
and the stairway was lined with incoming hosts. The par- 
lors of the suite across the hall were also open, receiving the 
overflow. The dining room extended the entire length of 
the rear building. This was now opened ; and the couples — 
' seven hundred in number — filed into its length, completely 
filling its capacity. It was once in the new city that such a 
crowd had assembled at its board. 

The men in the gathering were significant men, rulers 
of commerce, dictators. Their words were drops of gold. 
They spoke like dominant fires of furnaces self-kindled. 
Self-possession was theirs. They rose for toasts, headed 
by the Chicagoan, followed by the New Yorker, and, lastly, 
by the banker from St. Louis. 

After the banquet they repaired to the magnificent ball- 
256 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


room, which covered the entire space of the sixth story. The 
band began discoursing music, and the dancing started. At 
the request of the Mayor, several hundred Knoxville ladies 
had come over to assist with their presence and to attend the 
ball. The train had, at eight o'clock, unburdened them at 
the hotel steps. Now they presented an appearance seldom 
found away from Washington. The Mayor, who was for- 
merly a resident of Knoxville, introduced his guests, and 
each accepted a partner from among the gentlemen. The 
floor was soon filled with dancers. 

Mr. Lester encircled his wife's waist and mingled in the 
dance. Stein had also been promised several waltzes, and 
he came up for his dance. Mrs. Lester in turn introduced 
him to several of the ladies of her acquaintance, which 
assisted in the enjoyment of the ball. Mr. Lester introduced 
to his wife a number of gentlemen to whom he had sold lots, 
and they engaged in conversation. 

“The city is proud that you have added your testimony 
to our world buyers. Such confidence denotes the power 
of our enterprise. You are in the chief city of the Pacific 
Coast; you have world values in hand and can easily de- 
termine a city's claim. Your letter to the News was im- 
pregnated with a vigor which easily established confidence," 
said Mrs. Lester to the California millionaire. 

“Ah! madam, your expression is complimentary. The 
turn of the tide affected the affairs of men. This discovery 
was like the discovery of gold in our State. It is a match 
for the power which made San Francisco," he answered 
quickly. 

“We have the privilege of weighing much of this gray 
matter of the masters of finance who come to inquire into 
our claim of superiority. If it matches their own resources, 

17 257 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


it claims its own success, and men accredit it as an invest- 
ment and grade its prices,’’ she replied. 

“It is the surprise of my life. I was bom near here; and 
when the blue poster fell, our men arose in the office, thun- 
derstruck. I told them that it doubtless was true. I am 
buying for a syndicate that is staking the faith of the oldest 
of investors in the enterprise. Your husband will handle 
our properties. He is slated for Wall Street, madam. Such 
men are seldom found in any place but the middle of the. 
ring. I should say that he will be a Jay Gould some day.” 

This was satisfactory to the young wife. The Chicago 
man came up after a little while to meet Mrs. Lester, her 
husband taking the arm of the San Francisco man and stroll- 
ing over to other ladies and introducing him. 

“Dear madam, allow me to congratulate you on the superb 
success of your city. I admire its beauty; its environed 
mountains make it the aesthetic situation for city-building. 
It is a gem in embryo. With such men at its helm, it is a 
coming metropolis. I will add my mite to the construction 
and run up one of the most ornate blocks on the avenue. I 
have arranged also to erect a winter residence on the one 
hundred feet next to our lot. Do you wish me for a 
neighbor?” the Chicago man asked her. 

“Indeed, we shall be delighted to have such a neighbor,” 
said Mrs. Lester, extending her hand. “Allow me to greet 
you in advance, to show you my pleasure. Come as soon as 
you can. Congenial friends will make the city a charming 
abode.” 

At this the Chicagoan bowed low and stood watching the 
dancers. When the band began playing a waltz, he asked 
Mrs. Lester if she would accompany him. She assented, 
and they were soon enjoying the floor, the music, and each 
other. 


258 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The evening closed with Mr. Stein’s proposing a toast to 
the ladies, lifting his glass to Mrs. Lester, and all enjoyed 
it very much. 

But Dixie was obliged to reprove Mr. Stein afterwards 
and told him : “Wine and women will not do at all times. 
Be careful of your title to charity.” 

“Ah! you must accept an ovation occasionally,” he an- 
swered conventionally. “We hear you boosting. Men tell 
me that Mr. Lester’s wife would make a fine real estate 
salesman. As for wine, it made no difference. I should 
have been glad if it were water; but our guests would think 
that we had treated them shabbily. Forgive this once,” he 
pleaded. 

“It is all hands at work. From early childhood I have 
been in the thick of the city-building, and now our great 
enterprise thrills me through and through. What would I 
not do to assist in this stirring labor of construction? The 
Chicago man will put a million dollars in the city. What 
can stop its progress ?” she asked in return. 

“If I were a stenographer, I would take down that speech 
and use it in our advertising methods. Repeat it now,” 
teasingly he asked. 

“If your memory is so defective, you will lose my fine 
sayings. You had better get a phonographic plate in your 
head. I will allow my golden sayings to fall at a dollar a 
word. Can you stand the price ?” was asked. 

The night’s entertainment was closing. Many of the mil- 
lionaires came up to Mr. and Mrs. Lester, bidding them 
good night in the old-fashioned way. 

259 


XXV. 

OPENING THE CUMBERLAND TUNNEL. 


“Well, what does my wife think now of the prospects 
of building a city?” asked Mr. Lester the next evening at 
dinner. “Did you ever see men go wild before? I cleared 
over one hundred thousand dollars, enough to build on the 
corner lot, where they are locating the shaft to the Uncle 
Johnny cause. Does that pay for three days’ work?” 

“Pay? Pay? As your lines, so your life. He that sows 
sparingly shall reap sparingly. He that throws down a 
bushel of seed in one place certainly should have an abun- 
dant harvest, wiseacre !” 

“There are some tremendous buildings going up on the 
plot, too. The Chicago man will build a great structure 
across from mine. And that Charleston buyer was the 
finest in the lot ; he is simply enthused.” 

“His block will about fill the balance of that comer. You 
can sit up here and see the whole thing which we are build- 
ing. That will be your part on the program of boosting. I 
hear that they are going to put you on the committee for 
expert advertising,” he laughed on in such humor as she 
had seldom seen him display. 

Building began in earnest. Excavations were like buried 
Herculaneum. The entire business portion was a total up- 
heaval. At the break of day men began passing. Fourteen 
hours a day was the limit of their endurance. Carpenters, 
stonemasons, bricklayers, gas fitters, plumbers, and painters 
were advertised for in the Courier-Journal. They filed into 
the city by hundreds, found work, and sent for their families. 
Every class of labor was in demand. The impetus of the 
June sales had gone abroad, sent out by the advertisement 

260 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


committee handling the mammoth enterprise and doubly dis- 
tributed by the men returning back to the cities. 

Now the summer days approached — ^beautiful days of 
golden life in the mountains. While the city lay below in 
its clothing for the new day of its long awakening, nature 
was throwing her annual garb about her, wreathing all 
nature in a flora of mountain glory. The nights were as a 
drawing apart in some fragrant paradise. Down from the 
everlasting hills came rare perfumes. Rhododendron and 
the trailing arbutus had burst into bloom. To scent the stal- 
wart pines was like steeping your face in Cathay. When 
mom broke over the east the blue haze lay on the crest of 
the mountains, but the sun broke through the mystery and 
bathed the lungs with an almost liquid tonic. Men lifted 
their heads and drank gratefully the stimulating draught 
and were satisfied. 

Flowers grew prolific in the warm, rich soil unused since 
creation. The florist had sent sweet peas, geraniums of a 
pink variety, and sweet alyssum of rare growth of dwarf 
seed. Roses clambered over verandas, carnations flowered, 
and flowers of the hardier sort were in full bloom, sweep- 
ing the terraces in beauty. Dixie had her shears and was 
cutting a bouquet of sweet peas from the side yard to put 
on the table at lunch when she was called to by a horseman 
alighting at her stiles of stone. 

“Mrs. Lester, I brought by some rare specimens. These 
are similar to some of our rarest East India plants. I can 
divide with you, as there are many.’' 

“Ah ! I have been unfortunate so far. My husband nev- 
er has an idle moment. Come, stop for lunch. He will be 
right up. We can care for your horse. Come in on the 
veranda.” 

“Why don’t you establish hours for your husband? *All 
261 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


work and no play makes Jack a dull boy/ he said teas- 
ingly. 

“Establish hours for him, Mr. Smith? He is a public- 
service man. After the city is built, he will take his rest. 
But we can keep him after dinner for a chat with you. How 
are the mines? Have you got them in running order yet?’' 
inquired Dixie. 

“There is where I got the specimens. The surroundings 
of the mines have the most beautiful flora in the place. All 
these wild scarlet things are in low bushy clumps. It is 
bewildering to see the beauty there. I have seen the yellow 
fields of California poppy; but this is a rare treat in this 
exiled place of mine and satisfies me for a dash of color 
amid the great black chunks we are taking out of the mine. 
Truly, it is the finest coal in the world,” he said. 

“I noticed a beautiful array the last morning Scylla and 
I took a jaunt, but they were back by a bluff where my 
husband had located a tannery. We saw many exquisite 
plants. I gathered them and pressed them. The forests 
here are surprising ones in flowers, but it is the rare climate 
which obtains the perfection. I wonder why a florist doesn’t 
settle here. It would be a prolific enterprise,” said Dixie. 

Up the terrace, three steps at a time, bounded the business 
man. His manner subsided to wonted dignity when he saw 
that he had company on the veranda. 

Mr. Lester extended his hand, saying: “Ah, my friend, 
what a treat it is to have you stop for lunch ! One rarely 
sees you now. Do your mines take all your time ? I saw a 
mighty trainload of your black metal wind about the tracks 
this morning. Why did you not have some of us to cele- 
brate?” 

“My hands are full of offerings. These flowers I brought 
by to divide. I saw your wife gathering sweet peas and 

262 


the girl who loved the land 


stopped to share my trophies from the mines yonder. She 
and I are going to take you away from work some day and 
show you the treat of your life/' he answered to his friend, 
who had been so friendly to an elder stranger so used to 
mixing with the polished of the earth. 

“It is all down yonder on the avenue. You and my wife 
are cronies on specimens. Dixie, did you show him what 
you found the other morning? My father loved flowers. 
He filled the home place with his English flowers. The 
place was redolent from early crocuses and hyacinths to the 
great fringed chrysanthemum of the autumn. Come in to 
lunch now." Mr. Lester took his friend's arm, and together 
they went into the dining room. 

All of their talk was about the opening of the Cumberland 
Tunnel. This was the topic of the day. To-morrow the 
great opening was to be attended with much honor. 

After dinner these two old friends chatted several hours. 
The guest told of his rare flower gardens in India, of his 
birds of plumage, and of his stored cabinets of curios gath- 
ered the world over. His eagerness for their comprehension 
satisfied the man whose mind was stored with world matter, 
rarely ornamenting a social conversant. It fed and nour- 
ished one, Lester said afterwards to his wife, in a wilder- 
ness of unknown people. 

As a bride comes in raiment to meet her groom, all four 
States came to do bidding at the marriage feast. The Gov- 
ernors, with their staffs, accepted with congratulations. 
Four military bands accompanied the retinue. Flags of 
four States were entwined amid the decorations. The pub- 
lic buildings and towering stone structures unfurled im- 
mense flags. The face of Daniel Boone was the hero of the 
day, pictured in every conceivable place. The hotels un- 
furled tremendous flags from their staffs. Over the Gap 

263 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the “Four Seasons” appareled itself in gorgeous display. 
Its part in the entertainment was to receive the Virginia, 
Kentucky, and Tennessee Governors and their staffs and 
accompanying retinue. 

The 15th day of July saw a mounted cavalry climb to 
the crest of Cumberland Gap, directly over the tunnel, and 
unfurl to the breeze a flag. Within an hour another flag 
unfurled its folds to the wind. Presently a third ran up the 
staff planted on the heights. Then from the summit of the 
crest Kentucky ran up the flag of her proud commonwealth. 
Artillery again and again sounded, until the battlement of 
rock-ribbed hills echoed and reechoed, and the mountains 
reverberated the deep intonation. 

Then the cavalry came through the hills, with the Gov- 
ernors at the head of the soldiers. The band played mar- 
tial music as they marched into the city. The Governor 
of Kentucky met them at the entrance of the city and salut- 
ed, each taking off his hat and holding it in his hand. Each 
held aloft his unsheathed sword as a sign of honor, imme- 
diately returned it to its scabbard, and together they entered 
the city. 

The Mayor and railroad officials met them at the audi- 
torium and presented to them the keys of the city. A re- 
ception and banquet, in honor of the opening of the Cum- 
berland Tunnel, was tendered by the President of the rail- 
roads conjoining at the city. Glitter and cut glass and full 
silver service and most extraordinary menu ! The phalanx 
of embossed shoulders, swords strapped at the side, and 
military hats made every inch the generals of mighty armies. 

Many great speeches were made in honor of the comple- 
tion of the tunnel-opening at the channel of commerce, 
binding States with cords of railroad lines. The Governor 
of Kentucky made the initial speech. 

264 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Great deeds of progress call for the testimony of a world 
benefited by achievement, of a territory so blessed by natural 
environment,'' said the Governor. “The granite hills are 
teeming with minerals, and their sides are overgrown with 
a native forest growth of uncut wealth. Where else on the 
earth's surface can be found such extremes of lavish prodi- 
gality ? It is the land to make a harvest of praise with mar- 
tial music and world song. The harvest result long ago told 
of the need of opening a connection with sister States and 
ultimately reaching the coast for the exports of the demand. 
The commonwealth of Kentucky was teeming already with 
an abundance of stored wealth of products of the field ; but 
now to have this sudden wealth opened on her borders in 
a golden stream seems too much for man immediately to 
realize. Where has man seen such a panorama? Where 
is such incentive offered as the scene of lofty mountains 
stretching before him? Where combined with mineral re- 
sources? At this point we gather to give acclaim for the 
tunnel cut through the heart of the traditional Gap, a way 
blazed by a Virginian and the first pioneer. [Applause.] 
When the Louisville and Nashville Railroad surveyed the 
right of way for this colossal imdertaking, commerce knew 
that its gateway was assured. The managers were men of 
gigantic constructive force. Their engineers verged not a 
hair's breadth in meeting beneath the Gap, showing a feat 
of engineering wonderful in its mathematical calculation. 
We offer to them words of praise. If reechoed, it would be 
an echo of combined utterances world-filled, attesting the 
world’s gratitude.” The Governor took his seat amid a 
storm of applause that was deafening in approval. 

“I am not the orator of the day, because they selected 
your city, instead of Richmond, to do honor in,” said the 
Governor of Virginia. “But our son came through the way 

265 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


and blazed with his ax, so that you might find a footpath to 
the Gap. When we follow now the steps in palace-coach 
steaming with smoke, traversing in its path hundreds of 
miles a day as it hurries on, we know what steel harnessed to 
steel means; for now the speeding iron horse can sweep 
through the wilderness and on to Richmond in the time that 
it took Daniel Boone to whet his ax years ago. [Prolonged 
applause.] The wilderness is blossoming like the rose of 
Sharon, and beneath the canopy of our success we have been 
invited to break bread on the culmination of this immortal 
day. We meet in the heart of the crossways. We all profit 
by the renowned achievement. Commercialism gave an 
impetus which only another decade can chronicle.” Turn- 
ing to the officials of the combined lines, the Governor ex- 
tended his hand to the President, his other hand holding 
the two together in a clasp of union. Dixie, who had 
brought her kodak, snapped it, catching a photograph of 
the simple men, yet the greatest men of the day of achieve- 
ment. 

The other Governor spoke admirably, then the President 
of the L. & N. spoke interestingly. 

“I and my compatriots tender you this offering to com- 
merce as a testimony of interests,” said the President. In 
meeting in the most notable place of the South we feel that 
we have arrived at an episode in the history of our nation. 
Commerce demanded that we make the cut, and progress 
reiterated it. It was difficult, unceasing labor. It was a 
triumph of engineering. It is our honor. Men take us by 
the hand and bless us for sending the shafts of industry 
through the nation. [Cheers.] The wilderness was un- 
lit by a human torch. The great beacon light now irradiates 
the darkness left to bats and mountain carbines. [Prolonged 
applause.] The screaming whistle of the locomotive sends 

266 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


its lifeblood quivering through fastnesses to the center of its 
being. The trains loaded with all that is good for man to 
enjoy are whirled over stretches of difficult country in a 
day’s time where the slow ox team took four months. 
[Applause.] The new day has come. Banners of progress 
have lifted their folds from every hillside, flaunting in the 
breeze. Kentucky is proud, and my heart glows to see the 
active blood pulsating,” he said as he waved his hand over 
the city. “Now for a great triumph of the States,” he con- 
tinued as he bowed several times toward the Governors. 
“Every effort known to railroad chivalry will be extended 
the officials of the L. & N.” He seated himself amid thun- 
derous applause. 

But the day went not down on this commercial achieve- 
ment without every one accosting the other in friendly 
handshaking. 


267 


XXVL 

THE NEWSPAPER CONVENTION. 

They whirl and clash through the nights and days, 

The magical loom of thought ; 

In and out through a thousand ways 
The flashing threads are brought. 

Their swift purveyors part and meet 

On ship, on rail, on mart and street; 

With tireless brain, with hurrying feet, 

As the endless web is wrought. 

They may not pause when the sun is high. 

Nor rest when the light is low; 

For while men live and act and die, 

The world flies to and fro. 

It leaps the sea, it spans the plain; 

On throbbing wire and mighty chain 

It runs like fire from main to main, 

That the world may see and know. 

— Marion Couthouy Smith. 

Newspaper men are the statues of light. Like Diogenes 
of old, their opinions are preferred to those of kings. 

The great edict had gone forth from the Town Com- 
pany’s offices that the city of Middlesboro was to entertain 
the National Convention of Newspaper Men. The city pre- 
pared to entertain them in royal fashion and made prepara- 
tions in kingly style. 

One looking from vast heights down on an army reck- 
oned with the chef as to provisioning. They took measure- 
ment of the finite capacity of their respective appetites. 

The clicker in the telegraph office had begun on the board. 
“Click, click” it muttered all day. From every notable city 
on the map they were sending their chief editors. Seldom 
do these staid compositors of brain depositories relinquish 

268 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


the quill to take even a trip to London to consult the bud- 
get with the House of Lords, or to run into New York to 
see if oil is quiet under the twenty-nine-million-dollar fine 
imposed by a Western judge, who hip-hawed but a few 
minutes when it came to getting the dollar. 

But now the quill slid from the weary hand of the silent 
pusher. He stretched his rheumatic hands over his head 
and mused : “I am going back to old Kaintuck’. We editors 
are going to have a holiday.*’ 

“Wife, pack my grip. We editors are going to have a 
holiday. We are going back to old Kaintuck’, to the Cum- 
berland Mountains, for a week’s outing. Say, wife, shall I 
buy you a lot and build a bungalow ? They say that the cli- 
mate, ozone, and hot and cold mineral baths are bunched in 
free, and scenery is added to make up a full load,” the editor 
of a Los Angeles paper said to his wife the last of July. 

“You know best,” she replied to his query; “but don’t 
lose your head like you did when the Texas oil man was 
selling fields of it, and get stuck.” With a last good-by kiss, 
she sent him to join the California editors on the special 
leaving San Francisco. 

Aladdin had truly rubbed his lamp. The crude material 
of a year’s development had fashioned a metropolis which 
offered a fitting hospitality from a storehouse but a few 
months since in a wilderness resounding with the shots of 
the clans. The rail train’s shrill whistle sent its alarum 
echoing through the mountains. The tracks had been lined 
for days with refrigerator cars. Ice, fruit, meats, and 
vegetables were being unloaded to stock the pantries of the 
hostelries of the place. 

An addition had been made to the main structure of the 
Middlesboro Hotel, as the original accommodations were 
inadequate. It threw across a chasm of fifty or more feet 

269 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


a bridge, railed on either side in English fashion, following 
out the design of the landscape artist; and winding walks 
had been cut in the sides of the hills and about the canal, 
with footbridges and a rail-fence outline. Now this new 
structure thrown up on the adjoining knoll finished a com- 
plete, picturesque design. 

Here, opened to the midnight solons of the quill, was 
ready a charming conceit embracing four hundred rooms, 
with wide halls, verandas for sight-seeing, billiard halls, 
smoker — replete with every contrivance of modernism to 
gratify the lordly loller. 

The marching hosts had reached the city and were being 
received by a reception committee numbered by the length 
of its directory as the trains ushered them through the gates. 

Ascents were made to the historic crest of the Gap, and 
telescopes denoted the Virginia Blue Ridge miles away. The 
valleys of the Cumberland Mountains lay in the growth of 
a primeval forest. Cattle grazed upon the range of pasture 
lands stretching far away on the Virginia and Tennessee 
sides. The whirling train resounded, the only perceptible 
sound in the eternal walled-up environment, as if man had 
escaped to the playground of the Alps and lifted up his 
heart for baptism. 

Over at the “Four Seasons” the pride of the republic 
were ensconced, parading the spacious verandas and drink- 
ing of the mineral waters. Rheumatic limbs underwent a 
healing ablution in the waters likened unto the hot springs 
of Arkansas. 

The Commercial Club gave unremitted attention to their 
guests. Excursions were made to every point of interest. 
The inquisitive editors were shown veins of coal and slabs 
of stone of undetermined thickness and polished like the 
marble of Tennessee. The cuts of mammoth trees in the 

270 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


exposition rooms were investigated. Various woods were 
envied for the beauty of their exquisite graining. On, on 
through the natural depositories they were taken. They 
visited the cave, where their delight was unbounded — the 
rare beauty of stalactite and stalagmite, the huge proportion 
and beauty surpassing, hid away from the reach of man. 

“Ah said Lester, “we never would get such honor thrust 
upon us of a national convention of editors if we had no 
show. We vie with any mountain resort in the nation for 
the scenic. These curiosities of natural interest revealing 
treasures to you are a part of our drawing card,'’ he said to 
the editor of the Louisville Star. 

“You have every transportable product of your commerce 
but your ozone. We sleep at night breathing an unclouded 
atmosphere. It steeps a man’s slumbers in a narcotic. It 
swept through my magnificent pavilion of your monster 
hotel and reached me on the fifth floor, renewing my vigor 
of youth. My limbs, grown habitually rheumatic, are re- 
laxed, and elasticity tingles through them. I have seen 
more ‘boy shines’ cut this week than ever.” And the editor 
mimicked the fluttering of pigeon wings and different atti- 
tudes the solons of the quill got off. 

“No city can afford to give away its foremost advertise- 
ments. The ozone and the hot mineral baths are properties 
of eternal curative qualities. They will attract a man for 
a desirable residence for the winter. There are but few 
Eastern men who do not have their bungalows miles distant 
from their places of business. See Mr. Harriman erecting 
a resting place far from the haunts of men! Here is a 
paradise where man rests summer or winter, and our hunt- 
ing and fishing are unexcelled,” added Mr. Lester. 

“Yes, it is easy to imbibe the spirit of rest. Recuperation 
is in the Ponce de Leon waters flowing in the hot mineral 

271 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


baths. If I had brought my wife ! But it is the least ; all na- 
ture revels in the offering. Your land is cheap. We editors 
have not been accosted to purchase since being here, we are 
so used to values; but the thing itself naturally wins."' 

Murat Halstead and Henry Watterson walked arm in 
arm about the city, looking at the structural portion, which 
to them was phenomenal to open-eyed men. The massive 
blocks of white stone, symmetrical in design, were ornament- 
ed with interior opulence. The massive steel furnace and 
the exposition of black diamonds standing on the tracks 
awakened enthusiasm. Loud was the praise lavished upon 
the astounding dormant products which the L. & N. and 
conjoined roads had opened to commerce. 

On Wednesday night the Commercial Club tendered a 
banquet to the editors, which was a beautiful affair held at 
the ‘Tour Seasons.” It was a wild-game banquet, the 
mountains supplying the finest of toothsome meats to the 
palate, morsels of a juicy feast, viands fit for the aesthetic 
tongue of the esculent diner. A band discoursed music 
throughout the feast. Men were called upon for after- 
dinner speeches. The chief one to rise among them was the 
editor of the New York Herald. 

“I have my testimonials to offer, praise without ostenta- 
tion of words given,” said the editor. “It is a perfect con- 
tribution of city-building, and it lacks nothing but the 
opportunity for man to spend more time in mental diver- 
sion among its delightful environs. I suppose it will become 
a suburb like London when we New York men want a day's 
pastime, if the Louisville men will leave us a room on the 
sixth floor of this great palace. Advertisement has been 
your vitality, lying away off in the inaccessible Cumberland 
Mountains, throbbing with expansion under the rays of the 
world advertisement. True, you have stores faithfully re- 

272 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


corded and are throbbing with the power of attaining an 
altitude of commercial importance second to none. Away 
off from the transcontinental lines of our national road- 
ways, you reveal a claim to be magnificently constructive ; 
men claim abortively so. But you know who have thrown 
your lifeblood into its furnace fires, lighting a mighty power 
of flame until men gasp for breath as its ruddy gleam lights 
banners from the Atlantic Seaboard to the golden slope of 
the Pacific.” 

This speech was greeted with resounding cheers. The 
masterly editor had exalted the movement into greatness 
unknown to the citizens themselves, they thought. Each 
one was determined to augment efforts for ascendancy. 

'"Watterson ! Watterson !” men called aloud and up- 
roariously, and there commandingly arose among his com- 
peers this man loved the nation over. 

^'Conventions make a city,” began Mr. Watterson. “Co- 
operation sends the shafts through and through a city. A 
nation exchanges methods. The strength of a pushing city's 
personality, with the powerful backing of natural resources, 
the masterfulness of its management, and the progress of 
its enterprise, attests its claim to recognition among its peers. 
It aroused the convention to the height of enthusiasm to 
meet on this land, away from the vast concourse of com- 
merce, here in the wilderness, in the vastness where but a 
day has resounded the carbines of the mountaineer; away 
from the blue grass of pasture lands, amid nature's solitude, 
lonely, grand, defiant. Ah! it is something grand to see. 
Our eyes look away to a vast distance where mountain 
chains lift austere heights. We drink the ozone of fresh 
morning's distilling as it falls from nature's censer, lifting 
our heads in gratitude to the Creator. Each morning since 
man stood in the Garden of Eden nature has purified the 
i8 273 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


earth overnight and sent down to man draughts from her 
repositories of an endless space of laboratory. Each morn- 
ing he has hailed the sun as it crimsoned with banners its 
approach to light man to his labor. This regality of su- 
preme nature of changing cloud, drifting hemisphere of 
cloud, appareled in magnificent transformation, has given 
kaleidoscopic glory to scenic heavens. As evening draws, 
nature throws open the windows of her night dews, spar- 
kling nature with freshness. The star-lit canvas reflects a 
canopy of brilliancy unchallenged in the thought of men. 
The soft moonlight diffuses, rolling her chariot through the 
immensity of space, that even yet there may be light. Has 
nature no effort, spreading this carpet of world-existent 
need beneath lordly feet, that he trample soul effort in a 
response to nature’s requirement that he be soul-existent 
with the immensity of a divine plan? Ah! the everlasting 
hills resound with the shock of the artillery. Every soul is 
alive with power to reecho into the eternal a uniform work 
coequal with nature about him, created for him, alive with 
him, recording his word, deed, and action.” 

The array of nature corresponding to man’s ability here 
in the height of her resources tended to reveal the fine 
thought that the C ourier-J ournal editor infused his hearers 
with. The understanding crept into the soul’s sense as he 
concluded. His listeners broke file and flocked about him, 
thanking him for so subtle a speech. 

The banqueters called name after name of men through 
a nation’s pride. They all spoke in ringing tribute of the 
marvelous success of the enterprise. At a late hour they 
retired to exact from nature sufficient ozone to store in a 
man’s magazine to at least jot down “notes” of procedure 
in the columns of the editorial page on returning to their 
respective chairs. 


274 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The last of the week the editors returned home. It was 
well that they did, for no buttery contained a sufficient 
supply for Monday’s breakfast. It was coming, but the 
stampede of travel providing sufficient cars for the return 
trip stampeded everything at Lebanon. Back home went the 
power of the republic filled to overflowing to digest the 
juicy cud with the editorial staff. 

And the place became elated; inflation set in; the real 
estate men got the proud spirit. When the groceries were 
in, they had a congratulatory banquet and ball. The ladies, 
who had been the right-hand support of the undoubted en- 
terprise, were cordially invited to attend during the sudden 
elation. 

The first toastmaster was Mr. Lester. He repeated dur- 
ing his speech more determined need of hustling, every 
card to be played; and the ozone abstraction the editor of 
the Louisville Star got off. The C ourier-J ournal and Cin- 
cinnati Enquirer got the item, and the cartoonist displayed 
with matchless talent sketches of these frisky attitudes. 
They denied that it was a natural occurrence. No editor, 
they claimed, be he even a Herodotus, could be responsible 
for an ozone hypodermic. 

The convention was a golden fleece. The news it bore 
brought sight-seers the length of the railroads. They took 
up the thing, offering one fare for the month of August. 
Then the furnace fires kindled the heart of the enterprise 
until every city along the lines was envious. Coal operators 
offered fabulous sums for rights ; timber prospectors bought 
up every available acre of timbered land ; real estate men tri- 
pled their sales. The crowded streets were inaccessible, and 
business was a seething furnace commercially on fire. 

Again Mr. Lester let out his new Pineville acquisition on 
the market and reaped again his hundreds of thousands for 

275 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


those concerned, storing a fortune. Blocks were scrambled 
for and locations bid for, with men standing right on the 
ground and bidding as they do at auction sales. All 
lines of enterprise doubled. Factory supplies moved from 
the Ohio River ; wholesale houses, hardware men, implement 
men from the East; dry goods houses and shoe factories 
located ; railroads surveyed new lines, purchasing extension 
rights — ^like a clarion blast startling the world, until men 
took off their glasses, adjusted them again to their eyes and 
read, laid down the paper, slapped their hands on their knees, 
and cried : '‘The world has gone mad, mad \” 

One newspaper dealer said: ‘T nailed a poster to my 
Chicago showboard, and in one morning I telegraphed to 
Louisville to the Courier-Journal management for twenty- 
five thousand extras.’' A dealer in San Francisco said: 
"My daylight poster sold me fifty thousand copies a day.” 

Honors had crowded so thick upon the city that Dixie 
demanded a breathing space to reckon with herself if the 
current was not rather swift. Ever active and alert to the 
spirit of the day, it seemed to her that it was crowding some. 
She had been on the qui vive for weeks. First the June sale ; 
then the opening of the great tunnel of such world mean- 
ing; and now this convention and banquet, the citizens’ 
banquet and ball — all converging there absorbed the wom- 
an’s endurance. Weariness overtook her, and she demanded 
rest. 

Her husband noted her tired body. 

"Flagging, Dixie? The general all tired out? Were the 
speeches too deep and heavy for your brain? Too much 
brainstorm ?” he queried. 

"It must have been that. A lassitude overcomes me from 
which it is impossible to obtain reaction. I must go to sleep 
for a week,” she responded, yawning. 

276 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


**Make a schedule for Charlotte and go to sleep. It has 
been hard driving. Want any magazines or chocolates V* he 
inquired. 

Three years passed. The embryo had become a cosmo- 
politan city. The gem had been polished into a metropolis. 
Lined with arching trees were broad white streets ; fountains 
played in art squares; white stone edifices lifted their 
six-story structures. A magnificent suburb, amid curved 
white streets, built to the environs, gave a domesticity envia- 
ble. Banks, churches, schoolhouses, theaters, clubhouses, 
a library, and mammoth manufactories attested that the 
confines held a schooled world of men accustomed to the 
marts of the world's enterprises. The influx was continu- 
ous, and the hotels were crowded with a traveling public. 

The Four Seasons Hotel was entertaining English par- 
ties who were enjoying the curative waters. During the 
winter season many came from Old Point Comfort to keep 
the temperature at normal and escape the harshness of the 
winter sea. 

Business affairs had flowed in an even channel. The 
constructive board had lined the city with beautiful broad 
streets. On seeing them many said that Vienna could not 
brag beyond them. It was done on the incentive of a Flor- 
entine landscape artist, who was employed during the in- 
cipiency of the platting of the city and without demurrer, 
under oath, of any resident against dictation to his absolute 
authority. They were not needlessly bothered by moss- 
backs; all modern methods were devised to complete the 
embryo into a perfect whole. 

The days were waning when the old board would retain 
their present positions. Mr. Lester's friends were acclaim- 
ing him for the mayoralty. He was the central figure 
who had labored unceasingly for the upbuilding of a pow- 

277 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


erful commercial city. He was chief in his English tastes, 
derived from his father, in procuring the Florentine artist 
to landscape the city. The boulevard which lined the canal, 
similar to the Ringstrass of Cologne, was lighted with white- 
globed electroliers and had iron railings ; and the steps lead- 
ing to the water, similar to those at the Thames, were de- 
signed by the artist. The downtown parks were the gifts of 
Lester. The flora, statues, and iron seats were contributed 
by Smith and Stein. Hospitals had been inaugurated at the 
mines, including free baths, a rest room, magazines, and 
daily papers. The scale of wages and homes of the miners 
had been supervised by the board to reach some adequate 
decision. 

Now the city was demanding that Mr. Lester take the 
place of its Mayor. They demanded a young man to head 
the power of dominant affairs. People believed in him. 
Stanch and dependable, he was trusted by men and hon- 
ored far beyond the custom of men to yield their favorites. 
The principal point of his personality lay in his enthusiasm. 
Dixie’s neighbor, the old street contractor, had many wordy 
chats on the subject with her. 

“I much prefer that Mr. Lester be Mayor than you,” said 
the old contractor. 

“Why does the sewer never take the overflow out on 
Kentucky Boulevard? And why does the pavement crum- 
ble so on Cedar Avenue ?” Dixie asked. 

“Poor workmen and a bad grade of material,” he an- 
swered. 

“Then the city should employ a supervisor, at double 
expense to the city, too. That should come out of your 
salary as councilman, I think.” 

278 


XXVII. 

THE MAGIC CITY BUBBLE. 


The bubble burst. What bubble ? The “Magic City’' bub- 
ble. The iron city of the Cumberland Mountains had fall- 
en. The headlines of the morning paper read: “The bot- 
tom has fallen out of the magnificent enterprise which man 
built in his integrity, as if an earthquake had swallowed 
its prey. Not a shovelful of iron is in the Cumberland 
Mountains.” The south side was the natural depository for 
geological survey. Iron was not there. From the Jellico 
mines, in far-away Tennessee, iron had been conveyed for 
days prior to the opening of the smelter. 

Dixie, holding the paper tightly grasped in her hands, ran 
out on the porch to see if the furnaces were lighted, as 
scheduled. Bulging convulsions of smoke were pouring 
from the enormous pipes, and the morning paper she read 
was telling her of the doom of the city. The black head- 
lines froze the blood in her veins. “Ah, the beautiful city !” 
she murmured. “And the panorama of mountains lifting 
their everlasting summits into the blue heavens ! The city 
is garnished, the workmanship ornate, ideal in structure.” 
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Could it be so fatal as this? 
But what of my husband? He loved it so ! All his buoyant 
manhood has been centered in the building of the city. No 
pains had been spared, no outlay of means, sacrifice, or plan, 
to make an ideal metropolis. What of him?” She was 
fearfully alarmed. “What is this deadly thing throwing its 
pall over my senses ?” 

Dixie went into the hall, caught up her hat and umbrella, 
and ran hastily down the terraced steps and down to her 
husband’s office. “But what can it all mean?” she thought. 

279 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“The English syndicate deposited in the Frankfort State- 
house affidavits swearing to the iron ore in the Cumberland 
Mountain properties, and every deed recorded this state- 
ment. Then what did it mean?'" 

But Dixie's heart rang an alarum for her husband. The 
purpose of his life was bound up in the project. He had 
never been defeated. He was as sunny as the glassy sea ; 
the waves rippled on and on, calm as his nature was. Ah ! 
if that nature was stirred to its depths, if an unlikely catas- 
trophe fell upon it, if some fierce hurricane swept over it, 
what then ? The devastating thing which hovered over him 
would devour him, destroy his efforts, and lay waste a life 
work unselfish in its interests. 

There was no one at the office but the boy attendant. He 
sat with listless hand, unoccupied. He had not seen Dixie's 
husband. The door stood open when he got down, but he 
wondered all the time where he was. Dixie pointed to the 
open paper lying before the boy's eyes. Her husband had 
read the paper after he reached the office. She walked up 
the street to see if she could see him anywhere. Men 
looked at her out of white, worried faces. Sunken eyes 
stared at her as if hope had taken flight. Men were reeling 
on the street. There were but two saloons in the city. The 
wide-awake place knew no need of the brawls which idleness 
brings. She saw her husband's friend from home fall head- 
long in the street as he reeled from a saloon swearing a fear- 
ful oath. On she sped with quickened pace. But his friend's 
offices were all locked; business houses were closed; the 
company's offices were unoccupied. Several men she knew 
were talking together near the post office. 

“Have you seen my husband?" Dixie asked. 

They sadly shook their heads, saying : “He is looking for 
the officers of the company." 

280 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Dixie turned and went back to his office, hoping by that 
time he would have returned. Gangs of men had left work 
and were thronging the streets. Close-shut cabs darted by. 
Dark, sullen murmurings came from the increasing stream 
of humanity which was swelling the streets. Wagons piled 
with building material were driverless. The crowd's faces 
denoted disaster and defeat. The saloon was flourishing; 
now they were harvesting despondent men, foiled, mad- 
dened, bankrupt of the privilege of labor. 

“One,” tolled the town clock. With a broken spirit for 
her husband, that he should suffer the downfall of man's 
destiny of success builded by provident methods, and fearful 
that something had happened to him, Dixie's face was wet 
with tears as she climbed the terrace steps back to her home 
and sat on the porch, straining her eyes to catch some glimpse 
of her husband. She rang the telephone intermittently, 
hoping that some word of her husband might be heard. The 
smoke had died down in all the factories' smokestacks. 
The noon scream of whistles had not been sounded. The 
avenue was black now with a surging mob of men. Fear 
arose in her heart. “What would a mob of men do? No 
force of police could hold the reckless mob if intent to 
harm came in their thoughts.” But it was not the workmen 
who had lost their all ; it was the projectors who had poured 
their lives into the city, and these black-browed men turned 
avengers. 

“I want my papa,” the three-year-old boy said to his 
mother. “It am time papa turn home,” and he looked up 
at his mother beseechingly. 

“He will be right up. It is supper time now.” Dixie 
caught him up in her arms, he hugging her close in a fear 
which crept into the little heart. 

“I fink he stays awful long time away for a papa. He 
281 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


said he would take me ride on him’s pony fen he turns 
back,” the child insisted. 

“We will watch and see. You can go along on the horsy 
and hold the bridle, too. When you learn real well you can 
ride with mamma on your own little broncho. Won’t that 
be nice?” she asked of the beautiful boy cuddled up against 
her cheek. 

“Yes’m; and when ’ittle brofer dits big as me, we will 
have a tart and drive double team,” he continued. 

Eight o’clock rang over the city. Dixie gathered up her 
boy and went again to talk with Charlotte about what to do. 
“Mr. Lester has met with some trouble, Charlotte. Let us 
be served. The children must be put to bed. It is past 
their hour of retiring.” 

“Am dis trouble ’bout dat smelter? De stable boy said 
eber one stark crazy. W’at it got to do wid business?” 
asked Charlotte. 

“It is the dependence of all business. Every foot of 
ground sold was conditioned upon iron ore in the Cum- 
berland Mountains. The city is in peril. That mob will do 
damage, I am afraid. If my husband would only come 
back !” Dixie responded to her “black mammy.” 

“We’ll take Sam an’ go down and fin’ him. Ef he stays 
down in the mob, his life is nothin’. Dey’s dangerous men,” 
muttered Charlotte. 

“Yet he is their friend. They are all together in this deal. 
Every man in the place is financially ruined, and my hus- 
band gave all he had to assist in building the city,” Dixie 
told her. 

They went down to the outskirts of the mob. Every face 
was scanned. They inquired of every one who knew him, 
but the search was in vain. Leaving the stable boy to con- 

282 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


tinue the search, they returned to the hill and dragged 
themselves up the steps. 

‘‘Two,"’ rang from the town clock. Suddenly wheels were 
heard crunching the shells on the driveway. Footsteps came 
up the walk. The brass knocker resounded through the 
house. Dixie shook the colored woman awake. 

“Charlotte, there is some one knocking at the hall door. 
Let us go down and see who it is. They came in a hack. 
Perhaps my husband is hurt.” 

“I turn on dem "er lights,” and Charlotte swept the lawn 
with light from electric bulbs depending from the porch 
ceiling and called : “Who’s dat ?” 

“Mr. Lester is in the hack. I am the driver. We will 
bring him in,” the voice answered. 

“Bring him in?” gasped Dixie. “What do you mean? 
Can he not walk? Did he hurt himself? We have looked 
all day for him.” Grasping a shawl from the hall rack, she 
ran down the walk, calling to her husband to come into the 
house. 

But the driver was running after her. “He is drinking, 
madam. He cannot walk,” he said. 

“Drinking ! Drinking what ?” 

But some one else was in the hack, too, and was stepping 
from the steps as she approached. It was Stein, his friend. 
They lifted Mr. Lester out, and Dixie went on before to 
make ready a place to lay him. They carried him up the 
stairway and laid him on the cool white bed. She brought 
ointment to bathe a fearful cut on his cheek and bathed his 
hands and face. They went back into the night and left 
her with something she could not bear. 

As dauntless as a Marion, not a craven muscle in her be- 
ing, Dixie at last despaired when she looked upon manhood’s 
fashioning and saw it seemingly lifeless and nonexistent. 

283 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


She left it in this state, linked her hands over her head, and 
lay the balance of the night on the divan in her boys’ bed- 
room. The heavy sleep and the dreadful snoring of the 
marred man, like some hog snoring, it was impossible to 
bear. All resemblance of her husband had fled. Glassy 
eyes looked up her, and his tongue mumbled as if reason 
had vanished. The idiotic gibberish issued from a golden 
casket of resplendent idioms, rhetorical, flowing as the vo- 
cabulary of a master. It was replaced by hideous noises 
emanating only from animals of the lowest order. 

Mr. Lester bore home with him something which the 
users of this narcotic feel all life is dependent upon when 
man shrinks from the ideal and wallows, sowlike, in a pen. 
It was a vial containing property the use of which the law 
had made no provision by legislation for limiting. At 
early daylight Dixie dragged it along the hall, down the 
steps, rested it on the lower step, opened the heavy oak 
door, carried it to the edge of the porch, lifted it in her 
two hands, and with all her strength shivered it against a 
noble tree. 

Mr. Lester lay in a torpid condition for days, his attend- 
ing physician constantly at his side. Dejection followed, 
and they feared the loss of his reason. Mr. Stein took him for 
a long trip to the Adirondacks, with his pointer and hunting 
paraphernalia ; for the mountains were filled with rare game, 
and they were both English sportsmen and fine shots. The 
papers breathed not a word of his disaster. His name still 
held the high place of honor as the candidate for Mayor. 

“Are they insane ?” Dixie thought. “What can a man do 
now, stricken to the death? What was the hulk of this de- 
funct manhood the English syndicate had left in place of the 
eager, enthusiastic progenitor? He could not form plans 
now for further ascendancy. He was Caesar murdered by 
284 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


his trusted Brutus. Could they reincarnate a pulsing life 
in the crushed being?” The treachery incensed with the 
make-believe, she wrote the paper, withdrawing his name 
from the useless cause of mayoralty. 

Great vans began passing down Cumberland Avenue, 
down the street below, in a continuous stream. For days 
this continued. Firms closed their doors, and business 
houses shut down. Numerous factories packed available 
machinery and moved to prosperous cities. Offices that 
were occupied a few months ago were vacant now. On 
riding through the suburbs Dixie found that the houses 
were placarded with *Tor Rent” signs. Authors' Heights, 
where the most magnificent of these palaces were, was 
erased from existence, and houses, the beautiful show places 
of the city, were estranged from their uses. 

Constant telephone calls came to Dixie inquiring if she 
would remain in the city. Friends came to tell her good-by. 
They were going back to Baltimore. They had not funds 
to defray their own expenses, and their relatives came to 
the rescue. The neighbors said that they were packing and 
would leave in a week. “We all wonder at your courage. 
What will you do ?” they asked. 

“Do ? Stand it as you do, with clenched fist and breaking 
heart. It is my husband I am sorry for. He thinks I have 
gone from affluence to poverty like a soldier,” Dixie replied. 

“We all wonder at it. But he has been all the power in the 
city construction outside the Town Company that a man 
could be. We wished to assist him to the Mayor's chair,” 
they continued. 

“O, he would take all the women's votes he could get, 
you know well. He was so anxious to continue the perfec- 
tion of the city beautiful and had so many plans — an out- 
side park on the side of the Cumberland Mountains, with a 

285 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


driveway set in forest trees and lighted with electroliers; 
have a deer park there and gradually add other attractions. 
He easily reached every old-fashioned or troublesome one 
by instilling city pride in the mossback. It is all over with 
now. Let me hear from you when you locate. I shall be 
very disconsolate,” concluded Dixie. 

Day by day Dixie^s friends came to bid her good-by. At 
last she took to her bed, unable to throw off the consuming 
languor which was weakening body and spirit. Her hus- 
band, after two months’ absence, found her too ill to lift 
her hand and greet him. 

“Poor Dixie! If I had not put my money back against 
my better judgment in the enterprise, you would not be 
lying there sick-hearted,” said Mr. Lester. “Cheer up. 
Mr. Stein has a friend in Chicago who has written him to 
take charge of a Western State. He turned it over to me, 
as he has no family to support. I am to leave the first of 
the week to accept the position.” 

“I don’t intend to live here and see the town buried under 
the debris of man’s deceit. It were better had it never been 
built than to sap manhood’s endeavor to the center. What 
will you do with all your property ?” Dixie asked 

“Of what use is it? It is not worth the ground it is built 
on. It would be better seeded in potatoes. The residences 
I built are all vacant. The last man has moved his hard- 
ware store to Birmingham. The block is totally unoccupied. 
The three years’ payments on the lots have come due. It is 
the irony of fate to presume that they will now sue the de- 
faulting creditors for the last penny belonging to the Town 
Company,” he said bitterly. 

“A gentleman called up and asked if we were going away. 
He was looking for a furnished house. He said he was a 

286 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


surveyor from Big Stone Gap. He had heard that I wished 
to rent my house. Shall we rent it to him?” she asked. 

‘'Not yet, my dear. Within a few weeks we can decide 
better. If this business is what we think — why, you and the 
two little men can come to me. Hold him off awhile, or 
you’ll have to go back to the Middlesboro Hotel to board, 
and that won’t suit you.” 

Mr. Lester went away to the West. Dixie dared not look 
in that face where light had flickered low. The candle had 
burned out. It threw out a flare and spurted in its deter- 
mined fight, but it was consumed. Unless fate propitious to 
its favorites threw the gilded bone, he would fill an untimely 
grave. The blow had gone to the center of his being. The 
treachery in the game of looting, with the methods of which 
Southerners were not acquainted and knew nothing of its 
dealings in piling up fortunes, had stabbed a man’s trust. 
They foraged with the sinews of war in amassing fortunes, 
the peers of finance, as a basis of right-dealing. 

But in ten days cheer came from the glowing heart of the 
West. Mr. Lester said that man never had a greater stim- 
ulus than the heart of the West sweeping away in its undu- 
lating prairie country. He would travel, he said, through 
the State, representing the Old Bond Life Insurance Com- 
pany. He had landed many a millionaire on a land deal in- 
volving millions. He felt equipped to land the insurance. 

Dixie wrote a letter to the surveyor at Big Stone Gap 
informing him to call with his wife, and she would make 
them acquainted with her contract concerning her home, as 
she had decided to move to the West and permanently re- 
side. Her husband found the country stimulating and the 
chance of a lifetime in business. 

The surveyor and his wife soon called. Dixie took them 
all over the place — showed them her conservatories, bloom- 

287 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


ing with magnificent flowers; her linen closets filled with 
woman’s lifetime of labor; her silver service, china, and cut 
glass; left them the rich hangings, curtains, velvet carpets, 
statuary, pictures, a library of rare volumes of levant-bound 
books, and her Steinway. When the hour arrived she left 
them the keys at her lawyer’s office. 

Dixie and Charlotte worked a week getting things in 
readiness to leave. When it was all through with, Dixie 
said to the negro mammy, who had loved her and cared for 
her and the two little boys: “I cannot take you with me, 
Charlotte. I am going away into the great West. As you 
know, I have but this home place left to me. It is worth- 
less as a sale. Not even the mortgage of a dollar could I 
raise on it here. Here is one hundred and fifty dollars to 
go back to Helena with. Old Job has gone where he needs 
no more help, and you are all I have left of my home family 
now. If we do well, I will send for you. I will write to 
you as long as I live.” 

Mr. Stein called Dixie up by phone, saying : ‘‘I am ship- 
ping my horse to Montreal; and I will ship Scylla, if you 
will let me, and take care of her for you as long as you 
wish me to — forever, if necessary — ^but she shall come to no 
harm as long as I live.” 

“You know I will not refuse your offer. Come up and 
get her. If I am never able to send for her, why, keep her. 
She is all I have left of my father’s gifts. If the company 
wins its suit, even our household goods will go. We are 
poor indeed.” 

“You are not poor; it is the men who impoverished you. 
See now the scorn of the world! If I had not bought the 
coal properties, I too would be in the hole. You are going 
to see good days again. Tell Mr. Lester to write to me 
when you see him. Good-by.” 

288 


XXVIIL 

TURN OF THE TIDE TO THE WEST. 

Dixie, with her two little boys, boarded the train for her 
Western home. Through Cincinnati, on past Indianapolis, 
through Chicago, crossing the dear old Mississippi, and 
speeding through the prairie country, she went alone with 
her little men, again seeking in the Western country a roof- 
tree. The grass was as blue as the blue grass at home, and 
the sky was as blue as the sky of Italy. The fine air came 
drifting from some fountain of exclusive ozone, and they 
breathed their lungs full of it, for they had been long con- 
fined in the stifling cars. The sun set on a horizon as it 
sets at sea, no intervention of piled-up mountains inter- 
cepting the view. 

*‘Ah! it is the boundless West, with its life-giving 
strength,” Dixie said. She hoped that Indians would dart 
past them before their long destination was reached. She 
told the little boys all the Indian stories she had remem- 
bered from her stock of childhood tales. Now they were 
watching. Maybe they would see them lurking behind a 
tree, with the little papooses strapped on their backs, or 
some big brave with feathers in his hair and his leather 
suit slashed at the sides. 

This was no wilderness; it was tilled farms rolling their 
pastures down to running streams, with elegant country 
homes set back amid the groves of native trees ; and sheep, 
cows, horses, and hogs were feeding by the thousands. 
The vast fields of grain and the tall, waving corn were all as 
domestic as the Kentucky farms back home. The Ken- 
tuckians should come West and see the abundant, thriving 
19 289 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


progress of the magnificent country. Such opulence was 
startling. It would be a great field for her husband. 

Westward went the train, on, on past village and flourish- 
ing city, crossing numerous intersecting railroads. Dixie 
saw long, continuous country roads, and wagons teeming 
with produce, and men driving cattle to market. The wide 
roads surprised her more than anything else. They were 
built, she presumed, on the scale of the boundless West of 
colossal lines, with rocky beds, which made it practicable to 
drive all winter long. It was a pity that the South did not 
loosen some of its yellow mud, half a wagon wheel deep, 
and emulate the pride which started these Westerners to 
making wide, rocky roads fit for the flying autos which she 
saw passing, bound for Minneapolis or Chicago from Des 
Moines, she presumed. 

“Look at the apples, as red as your mitten, Dane! See 
the big orchards with great big apples! Can you see the 
rich red color through the green leaves?” Dixie asked her 
little boy sitting in her lap, looking out the window at the 
red apple orchards lying along the tracks. 

“Wish me tood dit out of dis old train and pick some of 
dose biggest apples. It am so long turnin’ to dit my papa,” 
he said to her. 

But it was not far to papa. The train sped along now on 
flying wheels. After dinner the heavy cloud of smoke in 
the distance proclaimed a manufacturing city. Dixie 
mused: “What else is out here except the capitol of the 
State? Chicago we left far behind us. It must be our des- 
tination.” She showed the child the dark cloud of smoke 
enveloping the distant expanse, saying: “Yonder is the city 
we are going to. Papa will meet us at the train, and then 
you can run about a little bit.” 

The train opened its valve and sent a whistle through the 
290 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


prairies which almost scared the Indians to death, sent all 
the foxes to their holes, and drove the wolves to the next 
State. 

“There is papa, Dane! See, standing on the platform!’* 
spoke his mother. His little arms reached out to him. 

The father, spying them, jumped up on the train steps as 
the train slowly pulled in to the platform and came through 
the car down to their seat. He kissed them, picked up 
Carroll, the year-old baby boy, in his arms, took the grips, 
and they followed him. A hack took them to the hotel, 
several blocks across from the depot, where they remained 
until a house could be rented for the children to enjoy home 
life again. 

“Dixie, if the house I have selected does not suit you, we 
will select another,” said Mr. Lester. It is a six-room house 
in the northwestern part of the city. It is modern, has a 
large yard, unfenced, in a select neighborhood, and fur- 
nished. It will give us time to see if we can get any of our 
furnishings from the South, if we decide to remain here.” 

The next morning Dixie accompanied her husband to 
overlook the property which he had taken an option on for 
a while, until she should come from Southeastern Kentucky. 
They took the street car for the part of the city of its lo- 
cation. Houses lined the streets on all sides. But there 
were no trees at all and a dearth of flowers. Here in the 
early autumn — ^why, it was surprising ! There was grass on 
most of the premises, rank, though; not blue lawn grass, but 
the natural prairie grass, she presumed. What lifelessness 
it made ! O ! and the churchyard of yellow clay, barren of 
even a sprig of nature’s soft, exquisite covering! It was 
desolate and uninviting. What could be the state of the 
spirit of worship when things assumed such a horrid ap- 

291 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


pearance? Would she find the slothfulness of soul in the 
same state? 

Dixie found the premises in good repair. The lack of 
fences she disclaimed, as home environment meant exclu- 
sion to her. But the edict of the city demanded conditions 
such as she met, and she knew that the children would get 
off the yard and that flowers would not grow exposed to 
street life. They signed the lease for the premises for a 
year and began again home life in the Western city. 

The next day was the Sabbath. Mr. Lester took Dixie to 
see the city. They went over to the far eastern side of the 
place and crossed a small river. 

“This is about the size of the Kentucky River where it 
enters the Ohio. It was navigable to the capital city, being 
locked to keep the river at a sufficient depth to run a steam- 
boat and to retain an element of progress. Any place of 
this size should know what was lifeblood to its heart of 
commerce,” Dixie said to her husband as they crossed to 
the east to view the place from a point of vantage. 

“It has such an area of domesticity! I should judge that 
the place has a population of about seventy thousand. But 
the downtown business interests are inadequate to sustain 
such conditions. There are few mammoth manufactories. 
With such magnificent agricultural surroundings, it is aston- 
ishing to note the indifference of the people toward com- 
mercial ascendancy. If I had fifty thousand dollars out of 
that maelstrom at home, I would throw some logs of fur- 
nace heat at their heads which would wake up the old sleepy 
thing and set the wheel of the world buzzing about their 
feet,” replied Mr. Lester. 

“If we are careful of expenses, perhaps you can enter 
your line in a little while. With your modern methods and 
your ideas of advertising, you would soon take the public 
292 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


eye. And then a man throws his whole soul in cooperation 
with surrounding conditions. You dislike the road so much 
that I wish you were able to open your offices,” his wife 
spoke, so interested in his beginning again his ascent. “It is 
opportunity here. The opening is awaiting fire, thunder, 
and whirlwind of power to upheave the dormancy of the 
pall on the breastplate of enterprise.” 

“It has before it the prospect of a tremendous commercial 
point. Look at the surrounding cities, like Chicago, St. 
Louis, and St. Paul. Neither of these States has the im- 
portant agriculture that this State has. When interurbans 
intersect the territory and draw the trade to its central hub, 
it will have three million inhabitants. Dixie, look at the 
magnificent view before us. Those hills lying back environ- 
ing the site, like our mountains at Middlesboro, will be 
crowned before long with the castles of Germany. Man is 
able, as Watterson says, to render unto nature the ideal 
return of its creation; and, far more, man's brain is the 
apparatus of invention. It solves all problems of intricacy. 
Heave in the tremendous power that the Egyptian did ages 
ago, leaving on the sands of its desert a demand for future 
generations to build. Here river, land, railroads, and all 
achievement assist his most sanguine expectations to mate- 
rialize,” he said, awed, delighted, and overjoyed by the view 
lying spread before the gaze and insight of a tutored peer of 
finance. 

There was no chance for the man of dominant power. It 
was his work to search throughout the State for those de- 
siring investment in old-line insurance. It was good enough 
for the class, but far beneath the ability of this scion of the 
financial world, with his reach of manhood's soul demand of 
vivifying the opportunity with keen instincts. His expenses 
of travel were unlimited, and hotel bills were his bugbear. 

293 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The frugal home life Dixie resorted to to save sufficient to 
assist usually went each fall to lay in the enormous coal sup- 
ply which the Northwest, in its bitter cold, demanded. 

Ten years swept by in the systematic course of life. Sev- 
eral times Mr. Lester went back to Middlesboro to try to 
dispose of the property, or even rent it at the smallest cost, 
but there was not any one to rent it. The few friends left 
each time he returned had disappeared. The magnificent 
“Four Seasons’’ had been dismantled and sold in New York 
on the market in parts. The beautiful “Middlesboro” sel- 
dom had a guest. His heart broke each time he visited the 
place. He told Dixie he never would go again. “It is like 
the ruins of Karnak, desolate, unapproachable.” 

Dixie noticed, too, that when he went his face looked 
older, drawn, tense, as if he had suffered beyond the 
strength of man to bear. She saw, too, that gray had crept 
into his hair on the temples. His countenance assumed the 
dogged spirit of perseverance. The keen spirit of avidity 
died out of his deep eyes. He became a worn toiler. The 
personality of the man assumed an ordinary aspect. The 
challenge of manhood subsided into the solicitor’s demeanor. 
Inspiration, denied legitimate birthright, sank into the rou- 
tine of daily trend. Enthusiasm alone battled for ascend- 
ancy, the last vestige of the master’s toil. So the steady 
years crept on. Unusual difficulties aged him into a middle- 
aged man. At forty he became a nervous wreck, dependent 
upon stimulants, the vitality stunned by the blow dealt him 
in life when hope crowned with immortelles and fife’s frui- 
tion reached its summit of endeavor. As he stood victor on 
the crowned heights the blow fell. Stunned, he wavered and 
fell at the foot. Again and again he clambered, catching 
roots, crags, and juttings; but reduced vitality brought him 
294 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


to the couch. His closed eyes were too weary to open again. 
The day star had set. 

Dixie stood by his bier of buried existence, the unfilled 
work of a man yearning to fill his destiny and given the la- 
bor of a menial, with no one to value or know the burden he 
had borne or that he carried. Often he had said to his wife : 
“Dixie, if only some man of my kind would come in to see 
me ! The West is the most indifferent place in the world to 
live in. With all my friendliness, no man shakes my hand 
or speaks my name. I feel like a prisoner escaped from the 
penitentiary, wearing stripes, and every man^s hand against 
me. If they only knew the heart of a cultured Southerner, 
they surely would not let me die unspoken to. Money, 
money, my lord and master, is all ye render unto the gods. 
It exalts man into world esteeem. It was manhood at home ; 
here it is gold.” 

“The god of the North is a cold, gold god,” said his wife. 

295 


XXIX. 

A WOMAN FIRE INSURANCE AGENT. 

Who was to bear the burden of support now? A month 
had passed since they were left alone in the world. The two 
little boys had grown into tall, slender youths. Dane was 
sixteen years of age, the younger boy over thirteen. Both 
were in high school. Dixie, their mother, determined that 
they should conclude their young school days if she had to 
take charge of the providing of the means. But how? She 
knew nothing at all about business life. Her family was far 
from her, in the South. Her sister was surrounded with a 
large family. Her brother was dead, and his widow had 
been very unfortunate in managing the sugar plantations 
which fell to the brother on the division of the property. 
Athenia and Carlos married years ago ; but he was killed in 
the battle of San Juan Hill, and she had taken her two boys 
to her father, in the far Philippines. Anyway, no one must 
know of the fallen fortimes of her family. The Rochesters 
were never poor people. No one ever heard of a straitened 
Rochester. 

Suddenly a thought occurred to Dixie, screened all her 
life from the inquiry of the world's stare. The town was 
in an impoverished condition. Streets of continuous thor- 
oughfares were entirely treeless, and the lack of flowers 
made a dull pain come into her womanly heart. Why not 
supply the culture here in this Western world? Would not 
faces which now looked at her with such leaden gaze bright- 
en up with flowers calling every attribute of the ideal into 
life, radiating existence? 

The Southland had interwoven its brightest hues into the 
296 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


woof and warp receptive to coloring. It spoke back in the 
glowing eye, in the expression of winning womanliness. 
Sweetness of living stirred the deep nature and threw petals 
of delicate tracery over every place she moved in her nat- 
ural life. 

The next morning Dixie called on one of the florists and 
offered to solicit through the city for his house. He ac- 
quiesced graciously, allowing her half of the profits of her 
sales. She essayed the business, calling on the families as 
she wended her way home, and found that by the time she 
reached her place of residence she had four dollars in her 
pocket. Social advantages won her the distinction of cour- 
tesy at every house. The politeness was uniform. Ladies 
of the finest quality received her into their parlors and gave 
her the best of hearing. She sold seeds, flowers, plants, 
and took orders for trees for the parking, too. This had 
been a cause of great annoyance to her, until she felt that 
she would petition the Board of Public Safety to shield the 
passer-by from the torrid heat by city pride for ornamenta- 
tion, taking the barren, desolate appearance from the city’s 
boulevards. 

During the spring and away into the summer she located 
her line in the city. Many times a congenial acquaintance 
was formed, throwing brightness into the life of the woman 
estranged from her own class by the demand of support of 
her children. Being isolated, alone, as her husband was, 
soon made a misanthrope of an ideal character. 

Dixie won her way regally. Money, the shuttle of the 
world, fell into her hand. Adroitness was the inner tube 
of supply. But she graduated. Woman, ever the true 
friend if found, taught her to ascend. Ten- and twenty- 
dollar bills reposed in her hand, showing that higher fields 
were open to her. 


297 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Dixie entered the fire insurance business. She took the 
agency for ten big companies and solicited throughout the 
city, writing policies as often and as large as men did. 
Agents claimed among themselves that it was industry. 
Acumen, Dixie knew, won every battle she fought commer- 
cially — a, battle to the finish in the thickest of the fight, and, 
like a deer stalking through forests, her antlers held high 
in the air. 

Dixie stood their metal in the battle and filched by rude 
toil against family patrimony of the wealthy a skillful exist- 
ence, leaving on the field many dead combatants. Her 
blood was fired. Trampled by the battle she would not be. 
Her books recorded every night the honors of many a con- 
quest. 

The city was building. On every side were vaulted struc- 
tures of large proportions. A white-stone library was an edi- 
fice which attracted the alert attention of Dixie, the fire in- 
surance agent. Not from a money value ; far from it. She 
did not even solicit it, considering such buildings ade- 
quately protected by the material of construction. Its co- 
lossal proportions of design interested her. Across the river, 
often coming back from a morning of soliciting among the 
industries lying in the enviable space of business lines, she 
watched the building attain the proportions of a majestic 
structure, saw it expand the foundations and uprise like 
some fair temple man might desire to visit in conversing 
with the depths of literature or searching through its tomes 
of ancient manuscripts, as if back in the Pitti Library amid 
the past of its history’s greatest of state. 

On all sides buildings were going up. Away out past her 
residence they were building. A new four-story bank of 
large proportions arose near the university grounds. This 
was soon solicited and won. Not a feather fell from her 

298 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


cap of destiny. Decided, determined, she strove to the 
length of a woman’s right — a prerogative to take the fallen 
one’s place and with high-born courage press her rights until 
men yielded to the insistence. 

Splendid store buildings loomed on the horizon of need. 
On every street they lifted up two, three, four, five, aye, 
six stories, and sometimes she wrote insurance for the full 
six stories and laughed at the solicitors leaving the job and 
sulking away untrophied, unsung, forgotten. 

The downtown horizon was black with commercialism. 
The tremendous courthouse, costing half a million dollars, 
was setting its inclosed structure over a block of city per- 
spective. Its corridors Dixie crossed to feel marble beneath 
her wayworn feet and to satisfy a long-felt need of her 
soul’s demand for blocks and blocks of stone. Pompous 
structures, great structures which finance upbuilds in tow- 
ering power, they must come to it or face a crisis, when no 
city saves itself unless it throws down the beams of strength 
under its commerce as its prime factor of awakened power. 

Dixie’s soul went forward with a rush which filled the 
vacuum, which seemed bound to the action of power in city 
construction. Her spirit longed superhumanly to heave 
huge chunks of heated enterprise ablaze into the furnace’s 
slow fire and win laurels for the craving of success. 

Over in the eastern section of the city proper Dixie lo- 
cated a hotel being reconstructed from a small-sized place 
into proportions fitting the demands of trade. This she 
placed. Following another opportunity, she assailed a third 
time the mercantile establishment of a dealer in implements 
and indefatigably got it. She closed his entire line of annual 
policies at the closest rate, he intimated, he ever had in busi- 
ness. This had previously been surrendered only to the es- 
tablished families, where social reciprocity was the custom. 

299 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


The Secretary of the Agricultural Department had been 
courteous to her when previously soliciting. She again 
made the opportunity of reaching him. He again looked his 
policies over and divided the Birdeye policies with her. 
She then walked down the west entrance in her departure 
from the capitol, sitting on a plateau of proportionate acres 
sloping toward four sides, as if it had been heaped, like 
Wellington's battle field, to make an objective point for 
oversight of a magnificent panorama. The fire insurance 
agent halted in her onward rush to allow soul existence to 
take a perspective. 

Towering in its height, it surveyed hills, valleys, and 
mighty rail lines, showing the power of toil, stretching away 
for miles, intersected and reintersected, and mighty engines 
steaming on the space below. 

Smokestacks boiled convulsive smoke. The hundreds of 
acres awaiting the canvas of a mighty city lay even as a 
new-fallen snow. As far as Dixie's eyes could reach tre- 
mendous buildings rose in the morning, filling a scene sel- 
dom witnessed in beauty and breadth. Unwillingly the 
eagle eye withdrew from the natural environment of a com- 
mercial strategical point and followed the lines of an agent 
with severe demeanor and hurried step. 

But it filled her soul with a picture which the world 
craved in its sordid satiety. It filled her with sunshine, her 
feet with elasticity, and the inner resources of her enthusi- 
asm to see the surrounding environs bubble over the crater 
of existence, throwing fire, smoke, and, she prayed, the 
hot lava into tremendous layers of black, white, red, or 
blue stone like the blocks of Venice into a mammoth stone 
structure, encompassing the surveys naturally. Sunshine 
flooded everything. A radiance suffused the very clods of 
earth, giving her face a beam of existence. No day was for 
300 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


repining. It took the thunderbolts of Jove to move placid 
equanimity, a constant force of thought to propel tunnels 
of supply. Her afternoon engagement took her to a print- 
ing establishment. She must stop for lunch somewhere. 
Well, here was the Young Women's Christian Association. 
Why not stop here? Their meals were so informal and so 
exceedingly appetizing ! 

Two o'clock found Dixie ushered into the presence of one 
of the foremost newspaper houses of the West, located in 
the city, as a matter of central supply. The President was 
waiting and offered her a seat ; then he requested her rate. 

“The rate previously stated; with the double capacity of 
your enlarged structure, the expense will not be even what 
you paid for your first policy. It is the hour of progress in 
city construction. Men must have the proper opportunity 
of screening themselves from the high prices. For the 
eighty thousand dollars I will charge you only three per 
cent for five years. You are rated at one dollar and seventy 
cents annually. That’s offering adequate figures for our 
building season,” the business woman stated. 

“I thank you, Mrs. Lester. It is surprising what the reg- 
ular charge of other agents is. It will stick, you say? No 
bluff or taking advantage in agents' work? They fool us 
men ; and as soon as the policies are delivered, up goes the 
rate. I'll tell you what I'll do. You write up the policies, 
deliver them to me, and bring a stipulation that the com- 
pany will hold to the stipulated rate, and we will close the 
deal for eighty thousand dollars at three per cent. That in- 
cludes, as you say, the builders' risk without extra charge 
until completed ?” the President asked. 

“Yes, just as stated; and the stipulation will be signed by 
the president, and you will not be bothered that way. I have 
never raised my rate and never shall. It is adequate, much 

301 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


higher than it should be, if regulated on the record of na- 
tional rating,” she asserted. 

"‘It will take women to straighten out business. It is "steel 
cut steer — mostly steal — Mrs. Lester. But I am glad to find 
an honest agent, an agent interested in the building city, who 
won't cut our throats for the almighty dollar.” 

Dixie bade him good afternoon and thanked him grate- 
fully, as her nature was, in deep response to kindness. The 
business was immediately turned into the office to which 
she belonged. 

The Secretary said to her as she laid down on his desk the 
largest policy of the season : "‘Mrs. Lester, this belongs to us. 
It is a mistake. It was intended for us. I was going over 
in a couple of days and write it up. We deal with them. 
They give us their business. We can’t pay an agent twenty- 
five per cent on such business as this. I am obliged to you, 
all the same. I will take over the policies,” he said to her, 
trying to shut off her accomplished labor without a care, but 
with the result in his hand. But he counted on her for- 
bearance as a cat would the mouse she saw in the sugar 
barrel. 

‘"Can you imagine the policies were searching the city 
over for an office to have them kindly, most courteously 
written up in? Do you really imagine they wandered up 
here especially to you? Every agent in the city was hot 
after them. But, you see, I predominated; I beat them; I 
got at the rate the best; I landed the policies. If you can 
write those policies, ten thousand dollars apiece, in your 
eight companies, you may have them. Several agencies 
are begging me for them, with as good commission as I 
get here. Are you going to write them?” Dixie asked se- 
verely. 

""I will this time. If you bring up any more business that 
302 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


I can get myself, you lose the commission,'" he answered 
vindictively. 

‘'When you get democratic enough to go down on the 
street and hustle for business yourself, you may have it; but 
if your support comes from a popular agent's ability, you 
won't claim the work. Now hurry with those policies. I 
have two more besides. I have half a notion to give them 
away to those other agencies. Now, this other bank policy 
is where you have stock. I used it as a card to solicit with, 
and I used it forcibly, the banker told me. You couldn't 
handle such business, or you would have had it long ago. 
Better confine yourself to supervision and your patrimony." 
Dixie bowed a deep, low bow, as if again she was in the 
drawing-room of her Southern home, and went down the 
elevator. 

“Are the policies ready she inquired at four o'clock. 
“I have the check for them, if so." 

“What ! Got the check in advance ? Hand it over to me. 
The policies are on the desk over there," he replied. 

Mrs. Lester walked calmly over and inspected the policies 
closely to see if they were written up properly. She had 
learned by that time how many mistakes are made, and she 
carefully scrutinized them. Seeing that all was done prop- 
erly, she walked back to the Secretary's desk, holding the 
check in her hand, saying : “Make me out a return check for 
six hundred dollars, and you may have this." 

“Ah ! your account is back ninety dollars. I will make it 
five hundred and ten dollars." 

“My account is not back one cent. Show your books." 

They went back to the books, and she ran her finger down 
the column of figures of her account with the company. 

“Here is an error. That forty-dollar policy was can- 
celed immediately. The man sent it in because he preferred 

303 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


another company. Some rascally agent ran it down, as 
usual, and he had no self-opinion or State affidavit to cor- 
roborate with. Now, here is another of thirty-six dollars. 
That man closed out his business several days after it was 
written, and you canceled it,’’ said Dixie, looking the Secre- 
tary full in the face. “Now, here is a fourteen-dollar pol- 
icy” — still running her hand down the line — “it was written 
at ten dollars, and I brought it back to the assistant long 
ago, canceled.” 

They exchanged checks, and Dixie left the office, never to 
set her foot in it again. She allied herself with another of- 
fice. But the end was not then. Days filled with looting 
fell ever to the woman’s lot to bear. 

304 




XXX. 

THE BACHELOR. 

**Bring around the electric. I must be at my office at ten 
o'clock, Peters." Turning to his father, he continued the 
conversation interrupted by the command to his man : “That 
excavation begins this afternoon, and I have some prelimi- 
naries to conclude," said Basil Marmaduke. 

“So you have concluded to erect the building, have you, 
Basil? It will save hundreds of dollars in taxes. It has 
eaten up the rent of several houses since I bought it, in 1855. 
I expect the five-mill assessment will force up a great many 
buildings on vacant lots. Save that big elm if you can, my 
son. You held that tree when you were a boy of seven. 
Now you are past fifty and good for thirty more years if 
you take them easy," his aged father said. 

“I shall put in a fine grade of work this time — the popu- 
lation's demand. Most every one is arranging to build. I 
suppose there will be at least thirty new buildings to go up 
this spring. I could spend a million dollars right down on 
Fourth Street and start a real hona fide boom, which would 
double the interest in the development," he replied to his 
father. 

“Aye, my son. I knew, when I located here over sixty 
years ago, the day would come before I closed my eyes that 
the place would make a flourishing city. The last thirty 
years, since you stepped into my shoes, you could have 
picked up investments, if you had been on the ground, which 
to-day would have made you a millionaire instead of that 
sly dog Hummer. His keen scent picks every bone to the 
marrow. Ground is the most valuable investment of all if 

305 


20 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


a man watches his chance. Build or lease as the market 
shows signs. It is exactly like the quotations of wheat every 
day in the year. But now our tide is going to the tip of 
the beam; and I thank God, Basil, that you are on the 
ground to watch. Progressive power becomes metropolitan, 
and you are fitted for a watchdog of finance,” his father 
said, knowing well what he had in a son if he struck metal. 

“I am on the ground now, and you can trust a chip off the 
old block. After lunch we will go down to see the first 
spadeful of dirt thrown out of the excavation. Here is the 
car,” speaking confidently of his power to handle business 
when on the spot. 

The father and son walked arm in arm to the terrace 
overlooking the broad avenue, sweeping away miles down a 
white boulevard of clean-swept street, draped with over- 
hanging trees and lined with palatial residences. Until 
travelers said it was no secret, the Western hub had the pen- 
nant of the West on avenues; if duplicated several dozen 
times, the place was finished and ready for business. 

‘‘Father, this air is tonical, composed of labyrinths un- 
known to mortal ken. No need of mountain resorts when 
man breathes such wholesome ozone. Good-by, now, until 
noon,” and he lifted his hat with deference and respect 
to his aged father, indelibly a mark of breeding belonging 
to his natural life. 

Never since Columbus discovered the continent had a 
nation been so aroused. The tide was upon men to save 
their lives from total commercial extinction. They met 
the oncoming avalanche of progress and got into the push of 
the wave bearing them on to prosperity, harnessing it, las- 
soing it out here in the West, reining it in with mighty 
thongs and tugs, binding it to the State and city. 

Into the maelstrom of the moving world Basil Marma- 
306 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


duke had dropped opportunely from abroad, after three 
years more of sight-seeing, some said, to heal another bro- 
ken-heart affair; but this had become so frequent as to be 
hardly noticeable. The gay bachelor still wore his heart on 
his sleeve, flirting with aunts, friends, cousins, and even 
sisters. He had never been tied tight to any one yet, brag- 
ging that he was still in the ring at fifty and seven. It was 
his affability, his cheer, which won him his host of friends. 
No dark rays ever laid a dull hand on his head and made 
him glum. He was a radiant, light-hearted man, shedding 
good fellowship as a rare gift. Men blessed his home- 
coming and feared his going as a chill to the commercial 
status of the city. 

Basil's home-coming now was attended with building. His 
trips abroad gave him a stimulus which he passed on to the 
waiting hosts of labor. The march of the world about him 
now denoted extensive improvements. This was duly re- 
corded. The office was filled with carpenters, bricklayers, 
gas fitters, and men awaiting his coming. He now came up 
the elevator and with quick step to his duties awaiting his 
decision. He received each man with kindly courtesy and 
respect, going over each line patiently, until all was disposed 
of and the last man departed. Then he tilted his chair 
back, lighted a Havana cigar, and ran his hand through the 
black hair which crowned a shapely head, as if wearied with 
the multiplicity of conditions included in his morning's 
work. Directly his mail caught his eye, and he leaned over 
and attacked the budget. Business letters he filed in his 
desk. Several bearing foreign stamps fell under the knife, 
and he read them slowly. A large brown envelope heavily 
stamped was scrutinized, the knife applied to its end care- 
fully, and a full-length sepia of a ballet dancer was extract- 

307 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


ed. This was his latest among the stars of the stage, of 
which he was a devotee. 

“Few men can show such a line of photos as I can,” he 
thought. “Met them abroad, mostly in gay Taree.' And 
my trips are usually extended several weeks> if the last star 
had a more Bohemian step. The poor girls are always so 
charmed to meet monsieur ! He is an American gentleman. 
So swell to dine with monsieur at the cafe after the theater ! 
The American gentleman does not bicker about prices, 
either, like the French monsieur. So liberal about presents 
— beautiful fans, parasols, boxes of silk hose, embroidered 
silk petticoats — all too charming for anything ! So carefully 
labeled, too, so no confusion occurs in meeting again ! This 
is the prettiest of all my girls, too, the prettiest in my col- 
lection. She will give me the preference, I know, over all 
the boys here. Anyway, the boys cannot pay the bills of 
these Vay-up actresses.” 

Basil Marmaduke placed the photo in his inner pocket, 
reached up and took down his gray fedora hat, twirled his 
dyed mustache before the beveled mirror, threw his short 
gray spring overcoat over his arm, adjusted the diamond 
stud in his lavender tie, and descended on the elevator to the 
street. He spent an hour at the Grant Club with a friend 
who had just hove in from Japan with a charming account 
of the garden fete the Mikado had held in the royal gar- 
dens, to which as an honored American guest he was in- 
vited. Several games of billiards concluded, they strolled 
down the street to a cigar store, lit their Havanas, and 
chatted until an auto came from the downtown garage and 
turned the corner in front of the Richelieu Block. Bidding 
his friend good-by, Marmaduke entered the steamer and 
said, “Home.” 

But a vision in early spring costume halted Marmaduke's 
308 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


vision, and he motioned the chauffeur to stop, calling : ''Miss 
Cambridge, come, go out home in the car with me if you 
are going home.” 

"Thanks, Mr. Marmaduke. I came down for shopping 
and intended to lunch with father at the Fontainebleau; but 
one seldom gets a chance to ride in your big steamer, so 
I shall avail myself of this opportunity to try its speed,” she 
said, getting into the car. 

"Strikingly candid. We will let out when we reach 
Richelieu. What are you doing these days? Been on the 
links much? You don't show it,” and he reached over and 
lifted her veil. "You are freckled. You must have been 
playing,” he said. 

"Yes, some. But you did not get half. Look at my mus- 
cle.” He assisted her to roll up her sleeve, never thinking 
it a violation of the courtesy due her. "My arm,” she con- 
tinued, "is as large as yours.” 

"Yes, that is what the girls of the period are coming to. 
We men will have mortal combats to fight as the test of 
prowess. You beat us at golf and hit a bull's-eye without 
wincing. We have about lost out,” he intimated. 

He reached into his inner pocket and produced the ballet 
dancer’s photo, holding it up before her astonished gaze 
(she had several brothers of her own). "She can do stunts 
you girls have not caught yet. She dances in a wreath of 
fire. Can you do that ?” he inquired proudly. 

"Where on earth did you get that dancer's photo, Basil 
Marmaduke? Aren't you ashamed of yourself! Your 
position in society demands respectability. You asperse 
your family name with such a shameful thing as that,” she 
said angrily. 

"I got it from Paris in the mail this morning. She is 
billed for the new theater which opens next week. She will 

309 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


be the chief attraction in ‘The Rainbow Girls/ You will 
assist me to entertain them, won't you?” he inquired of her. 

“I ?” she screamed. “Papa would never hear of it. Is it 
the new thing to entertain them in society? Do New York 
and London do it? If we had a precedent to follow! But 
what is exclusive society coming to these days? Nothing 
has precedent but the satiety of the hour.” 

“Now, this is the kind of a girl a man is indebted to, one 
who will help a man out in a squeeze. You will assist me 
to entertain these girls, then?” He suddenly jerked the 
photo down. A lady was passing attired in a spring walk- 
ing suit of light gray. She walked rapidly, in a business 
way. Her lithe figure passed onward quickly out the bou- 
levard which destination lay before them. “By gad, I 
wouldn't have that fire insurance agent see that photo for 
worlds ; it is too bad,” he said, provoked. 

“Why her more than me?” she quickly inquired. 

“O, she is away up on moral questions I I’ll bet she never 
saw in all her life such a pair of legs as that girl has. It 
beats your arm all hollow,” he told her. 

“Neither would we if you did not push it on us. It is 
our money that keeps us from being moral lifts to you men. 
Society demands that we keep the run of the set. Wine 
and gambling are no limit ; when you want anything done” 
— she turned, looking him squarely in the face — “you go 
through it. The pace we are going is automobilic and then 
some. Who is this Mrs. Lester?” 

“A trust buster, if you know what that is. She gives low 
rates on buildings. The Supreme Court decided it illegal, 
and she was the cause of the decision. She claims that while 
a city is building, high rates consume too much of the neces- 
sary funds of construction; there are so few fires. There is 
310. 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


not a man in town but has given her business. She is a 
capable business woman/' he said kindly. 

“A born flirt, Fll bet. The Southern women are all flirts. 
Their superior manners and intelligence pull the wool over 
men's eyes. I'll bet papa doesn't give her any of his busi- 
ness. I'll see to it myself," she said determinedly. 

‘'Don't make trouble for a lady. The best class of men 
feel that she is doing a favor to handle business the way 
she does. She has saved them thousands of dollars, which 
goes to build up manufactories. She works on a discrimi- 
nating basis, which is needed and right," he said. 

“What does she know of discrimination?" she asked 
quickly. “You talk as if a fire insurance woman was the 
most polished, up-to-date lady in town. I will see what 
papa knows about her," she said reprovingly. 

“I warn you not to make trouble. If you had the han- 
dling of property, she would come to you; and I bet you 
would shut the door in her face, as a friend of mine did. 
But the day came when she wished to meet her, and Mrs. 
Lester did not remember her. She brooks no injustice. 
Labor is dignifying. She collects her due at last," he told 
her wamingly. 

“Well, that is new light on the matter. I will see what 
papa has and tell him about her," she said reflectively. 

“Don't worry your little head about it. She doesn't need 
your assistance. She has a personality which neither breaks 
nor bends. She has made her place far beyond society's 
reach. She is a woman of the period and beyond your 
comprehension,” answered the man within a man when real 
life came to be tested by just weight. 

“Ah! the Western girl has lost her dauntless spirit and 
wiggled into golf holes and fudge bowls. If she gets a per- 
sonality, she must be born again," she said drearily. 

311 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Your soul is saved when you tell the candid truth. We 
will both go to the baptismal font when we get through with 
the ballet dancer. Don't forget that it is Monday night. I 
will call for you. Good-by." He raised his hat as she 
alighted from the car. She ran hastily up a flight of stone 
steps leading to one of the mansions on Richelieu Boulevard. 

The car swept on several blocks and turned into a wind- 
ing walk leading to a residence far back in the spacious 
grounds clumped with magnificent flora. The white stone 
gleamed through native oaks and beaches, which waved 
tremendous branches in the spring air. A marble statue 
of Neptune formed the central figure of a fountain. Mer- 
maids were grouped about, throwing water in almost ocean- 
ic tumult about the basin. Codfish and silverfish, procured 
from a farm of the State prolific in the development, flashed 
and darted through the inclosure. Basil Marmaduke stopped 
there and looked awhile. 

“It is strange. She is almost the image of Dixie Roches- 
ter, but twenty pounds heavier, and her hair is darker. Just 
some resemblance ; I shall think nothing more of it. Dixie 
was the girl that I made the piece of sculpture here for. 
Who knows what an old bachelor's heart is ? It is a mighty 
mix-up.” 

Dixie stood before the glass the next morning arranging 
her toilet. She looked into the mirror to see if she resem- 
bled herself now — ^looked as she did twenty-three years ago 
when she parted from Basil Marmaduke at Palm Beach. 
She saw no resemblance. The girl of Duroc's picture was 
gone from the tapis of life. This woman was a reserved 
business woman of the period. A determined chin forced 
itself upon her; an eye for keen business looked out of the 
glass; a pale face, formerly the color of pink porcelain, 
looked back ; her hair had darkened in the wind and weather 

312 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


to a deep Titian. He would never know her. She would 
that very day solicit for the new block she saw the excava- 
tion for in the permits to build. She saw a force of work- 
men there several days ago, but she had not the courage to 
confront him as a fire insurance agent. What could she 
offer now of Dixie Rochester, anyway ? No social position 
as she had had all through life. Money was the lever of 
society. She had refused acquaintances even to enter the 
Daughters of the Revolution, fearing that her straitened 
means would debar her in the North by the money stand- 
ard of a person's respectability. She felt no need of her 
being cut by her modest apparel. She had no home of grand 
proportions to entertain in. Dixie was a proud woman, a 
woman who held herself above the contact of a world which 
knew only the hour of circumstances. She refused to bear 
its satire or humiliation. 

Dixie's costume was irreproachable. This morning an 
elegant gray suit had been added to her slim wardrobe, and 
she felt that a very becoming stylish hat must be obtained. 
Her line of work called her to the foremost business houses 
of the city. She would dress according to who she was — 
poor or rich, queen or slave — and have again some self-re- 
spect and more. Then she smiled. She would write those 
policies to the full limit if the fire insurance boys did not 
watch, and they would be called on to exist this season 
again on that patrimony. 

She stepped lightly down the street, pulling on her gloves 
as she went along down in a happy humor, for the day be- 
fore her promised full assurance. After closing her large 
deal she had been enabled to enter Dane in the business 
college and also to straighten out some matters long de- 
layed. She purchased a handsome body Brussels for her 
parlor and a dining-room set long needed and demanded by 

313 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


a woman who wished to live according to the standards of 
her dominant life. The mission table and chairs and exqui- 
site china closet cost her — ah ! she would not tell herself the 
price. And the cozy parlor, with its dainty new curtains 
and new piano — what would people think of her? Dane 
loved music so and played by ear many of the latest songs. 
Well, she would make more money and get that set she 
wanted to surprise the boys with for a bedroom. It was 
something long delayed. But now she turned. Some one 
called her. 

‘'Well ! Did you call me ?” she asked, stopping in front of 
a residence at the terminus of the street. 

“Yes. My policy is about to expire. I wish you to re- 
write it for me,'' a lady said. “I have been watching for you 
for a week. I wonder if you know of any reasonable lots 
here. I am going to build as soon as I can find a suitable 
lot. This rent eats a person up." 

“There are some valuable lots located near you, yonder," 
said Dixie as she waved her hand toward the southeast cor- 
ner of an unbuilt space. “There lies the prettiest run of lots 
on Edgeway, and they are reasonable. I have been prospect- 
ing for property myself. They are cheap in that location." 

“See about them for me. A woman can as easily contract 
for lots as a man and make the commission, which is a good 
thing, I hear. I want four thousand on my house and 
twenty-five hundred on my furniture. Better place a couple 
of hundred on the barn and contents, too, just as we had it." 

Dixie was making notations as she talked of the property 
demanding a new polipy. “If I get to see the owner, I will 
report when I bring the policies. Thank you very much. 
Good day." 

The hour was still early as Dixie wended her way on to 
the city. She ascended the steps of the Sheridan estate, 

314 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


which sat in a block of the residence portion, sloping on to 
the hill from a natural situation. As she walked up the tire- 
some stretch to the handsome home she wondered why the 
grounds had not been terraced or sculptured or filled with 
flora, shrubs clumped, as the Florentines do their gardens, 
and set with ornamental trees. They were easily conveyed 
now by a process. How beautiful it would be ! She fell to 
designing the grounds to satisfy her tastes of the ideal and 
soon found herself at the front door. Lifting the brass 
knocker, she sent a peal through the house which brought 
to the entrance the master of the domain himself. 

“Good morning. Have you leisure for a few moments’ 
inquiry into a business matter. Major Sheridan?’' she in- 
quired. 

“Certainly, madam. Will you walk in ?" he replied cour- 
teously. 

“Thanks. I shall not detain you long,” Dixie returned, 
following him into the drawing-room, to which he led the 
way. 

After seating herself she stated her business, saying: 
“You have some lots on Edgeway which a friend of mine 
wished me to ask the price of. She desires to purchase a 
well-located lot and finds the one on the north side of the 
street a desirable site.” 

“I regret, madam, but under the conditions of my estate 
the property suggested is complicated by decisions. The 
property will not be on the market during my lifetime. I 
wish it had been different,” he concluded. 

“My matter, then, has a quick ending. I thank you for 
your courtesy.” Dixie arose and turned toward the en- 
trance and then bethought herself to offer her card. Per- 
haps he had some insurance she could solicit. She opened 
her card case, extracted her business card, and proffered it. 

315 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“May I submit my own line of business for your consider- 
ation, sir?” 

“Certainly, madam,” and he bowed. “I have insurance. 
You may have my entire line. Call at the office after ten 
o’clock. We will go over the books, and you can take down 
the expirations and issue them as they come due.” 

This was given, as the grand old man had promised. She 
called, placed, and watched the expirations for that year. 
He was taken seriously ill and died of pneumonia the fol- 
lowing year. But the cold about Dixie’s heart visibly melted 
away. Resuscitation followed, for the waters of life had 
run low. Lesser lights along the shores see the luminaries of 
the commercial heavens; and the men who challenged her 
force of dominant character bearing the torch in the wilder- 
ness of the West satisfied her search for the triumph of 
manhood. 

Dixie’s heart was radiant as she continued on her way 
down town. This was, indeed, a culmination of honors 
thrust on her, satisfying her demand for the exclusive. If 
she had the ability to obtain these, her fortune was assured. 
The boys could conclude their studies and be enabled to 
enter business with proper equipment. She stepped on 
lightly, hope in the ascendant, with luminous face. It was 
well, for before her lay a task which took the courage of a 
general or of the “Six Hundred” who rode into the “Valley 
of Death.” She was to meet Basil. Yes, she had the courage 
to solicit him. The dauntless spirit would win the battle. 

She rang the phone to see if he was at his office. Being 
answered affirmatively, she went hurriedly, before her heart 
lost courage. Into his office she walked. His feet were 
cocked up on his bench, a newspaper in his hand. She said, 
“Good morning,” and tendered her business card, inquiring 
if he was prepared to meet an insurance agent. 

316 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“I have time to hear your business. Does it pertain to my 
new block? It is not in need of insurance yet, I think,** he 
said indifferently, without turning his head and keeping his 
paper before him. 

''Certainly not,** the soft voice spoke. "Did not contrac- 
tors, bricklayers, and carpenters all call to request lines ? A 
fire insurance agent has a part in the building, too, and 
proffers her line as a most needed necessity,** she spoke rap- 
idly, stung by the offensive manner in which he received a 
woman agent soliciting business. 

"I have not considered it yet at all. See me later,** he 
mumbled almost under his breath, turning completely away 
toward his desk, as if the interview were concluded. 

"Do you know anything about the conditions of rates 
now? I have close rates in ten of the foremost companies, 
foreign and home. For your block out there I submit two 
rates for five years, including builder*s risk. A man is not 
going to turn down such an offer as that without consider- 
ing it. You let your building to the lowest bidder. This 
can’t be beat,” she insisted. 

"Take a seat, Mrs. Lester. Let me hear that statement 
again. Your companies?” 

"There on the back of my card. You know the best com- 
panies, with all your lines of business to insure. What is 
your amount, about sixty thousand dollars ? I will write the 
entire block for one hundred and fifty dollars for five years 
in the location it is in,** she said. 

Basil was looking over his brown book then, comparing 
rates he had previously paid. At last, turning and looking 
her straight in the face, he said: "Yours is the best offer 
I have had in a number of years. But it is a matter of 
reciprocity with a man. The boys are all my friends. We 
exchange our business lines. It seems hardly fair to drop 

317 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


them/' he replied, looking at her, his eyes devouring her, as 
she saw, and putting up the slim protest. 

‘Are you totally for the benefit of your friends, contest- 
ing the strongest business opportunities to defend some 
one's fat pocketbook? A self-opinion is sometimes needed 
to feel that your property belongs to the name of the Mar- 
madukes," she said, stinging him to the core. 

“Well, it is this way," he said, still feeding his eyes on 
her face until she reddened beneath her veil. “There is a 
bill for lumber unpaid by one of my friends, and this will 
about make the thing straight. We trade. I will lose his 
trade if such things slip," he said. 

“Is it necessary to pay for it with insurance ? Can a man 
let a close rate slip to protect another's bill ? Collect his bill 
and let him hustle for his business. It is abnormal to charge 
the prices the high-priced agents do. I had better write it up 
and save you the extra one hundred and fifty dollars," she 
said, concluding the matter for him. 

“All right, Mrs. Lester. I will let them hustle, as you 
say. I'll send a collector for my lumber bill. Write it up 
and send it in," he said. 

Dixie hastily took down the number of the location, wrote 
his name, smiled to herself, and said, “You can pay for it 
now," writing a receipt for him. 

Basil stared at her dumfounded, but silently wrote the 
check for the amount. She turned, saying, “Good morn- 
ing," and left his office, taking the elevator to the outside 
entrance of the building. 

When Dixie reached her office, the phone was ringing its 
call. She picked up the receiver, asking : “Who calls ?" 

“I have tickets for the opening of the new theater. Will 
you attend? We have a box and want you to go with us,” 
the lady said. 


318 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


thought I should want to go, but I have not bought 
my ticket yet. I wrote twenty thousand dollars' insurance 
on it, and should like to go as a business courtesy. Put me 
down for a seat. Two dollars? All right," and she hung 
up the receiver. 

A policy which all the agents had strained the length and 
breadth of their ability to obtain fell into Dixie’s hands that 
afternoon. A structure was filling half a block, being built 
for the occupation of the resident portion frequenting the 
downtown district, with storerooms below. This was ne- 
cessitated by the reconstruction of a mammoth edifice for- 
merly used by those desiring suites, but so located that it 
infringed upon the business conditions of a developed city. 

Dixie went to Mr. Stone’s offices, near her block, and 
requested from the girl in attendance the privilege of seeing 
him. He came from his inner office, speaking in his kind, 
cheery way: *‘What can I do for Mrs. Lester to-day?" 

‘‘Give me the chance to write up that tremendous block 
you are building. It would make any agent open up his 
own offices to get a lift like that," she replied. 

“What are your rates and companies ?" he asked. 

She handed him her card and gave rates, the lowest fig- 
ures she knew. 

“If I can, I will give you this policy. You have been to 
me before, and the figure is the best we have received. Let 
me hear from you again." 

“Why not decide to-day? The companies are good, the 
rates low. To write it now would end the matter. You are 
so busy with the construction. The builder’s risk is needed. 
It costs you nothing when you take my policies," she urged, 
wild to obtain it from the other agents. 

“You are an intrepid solicitor. Well, write it. I intended 
to give you some of our business, and it will not be the last, 

319 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


with such rates, if it stands. It will be but half the money 
I expected to pay.^^ So the matter concluded. 

That was the crown now of business. Writing two such 
notable policies made Dixie's heart throb quicker than it had 
since striking the West. It was something woman had done 
unaided, alone, among friendless people, who knew only self 
and its demands. It was indefatigability that won her lau- 
rels, and her self-respect sat loftily for woman's achieve- 
ment. 

Dixie went home early to prepare for the theater party of 
the evening. She took out her opera cloak, which had lain so 
long in the bottom of her trunk, and lifted out the white 
lace dress, the only evening dress she had of her beautiful 
toilets from home. She laid her opera glasses on the bed 
by them and looked up a pair of evening gloves laid away in 
some roses she had gathered from the Marechal Niels the 
last evening when she took leave of her conservatory. A 
lace handkerchief, too, she found. She raised the window 
to let the fresh air blow out the musty odor which perhaps 
lingered from the long confinement in her trunk. 

At seven-thirty she took the street car for the waiting 
room, where her friends would meet her, and together they 
filed down the street to the new theater. The party had a 
box near the stage, giving an oversight of the vast, beautiful 
theater. Boxes ranged tier after tier. Soon the box near 
them was filling, which Basil Marmaduke and the party ar- 
ranged for the week before, including Miss Cambridge. 

As quick as a thought Mrs. Lester suspected that the party 
had something to do with the photo of the ballet dancer 
which she saw Basil Marmaduke jerk down as she walked 
past the auto. This was soon revealed when the lights were 
turned out and ten ballet dancers appeared, dressed as moths 
with silver-tipped wings, silver slippers, bands on short tulle 
320 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


skirts, quantities of glittering stars in blonde hair, and faces 
like an angel band. Hoops of red, blue, pink, and yellow 
they held in their hands and rolled on before them, looping 
through them as the blazing substance burned. Many 
in the audience screamed; but the fire was confined — com- 
pressed cotton, Dixie suspected. But seldom had the audi- 
ence seen such an effective dramatic sight. A perfection of 
slow, rhythmic dances was given and several other numbers 
of artistic genius, proclaiming that the French stage had 
arrived at the aesthetic, if dancers were inclined to endanger 
their lives beyond the human into the ethereal. Humor was 
one of the numbers invoking the delight and convulsing the 
onlookers into raptures of laughter. This struck the over- 
strained nerves of Dixie, and she laughed immoderately. 
The scenes continued unremittingly until the close of the 
evening performance. 

After lunch in the rear of a drug store, they repaired to 
the car, placed Dixie in it, and left for their homes in a 
distant part of the city. As the car turned the corner for 
the northwest, Dixie saw the brilliantly-lighted dining rooms 
of the “Waterloo."’ Seated at the table, glittering with cut 
glass, silver, and exquisite service, were the ten ballet danc- 
ers, still wearing their white costumes of the stage, with 
Basil Marmaduke, Miss Cambridge, and several other ladies 
and gentlemen. 

Exclusive bachelordom with reared horns in the tangled 
forests, unsheltered from the rude blasts of winter’s sleet 
and snows, which howl and lash in earth derision ! Like a 
mother Dixie would have gathered his soul from the mighty 
sin and shown him the new day of man’s freedom. 

Days passed in quick succession. Saturday night, as she 
was closing her office, a telegram was handed her. A spe- 
cial was to be in on the ten o’clock train passing through. 

321 


21 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Would she wait? Some important business demanded im- 
mediate attention. That meant telephoning out to the house 
for her son to accompany her to the train and see the na- 
ture of the business which was so urgent. 

They went to the train at the specified time, saw the spe- 
cial and attended to the business, bade the party good-by, 
and started for the car to take them back home. They took 
a short cut for the car across the now-completed court- 
house yard, where a statue of La Salle, an Indian chief, in 
bronze and many other notable statues stood in the white 
moonlight. The foimtains murmured. The ‘"Naiads” 
seemed like embodied sprites from another world. Great 
trees stood out like sentinels in the silence, colossal, grand. 
They quickly passed on to the street and reached the pave- 
ment on the north side. But what was this staggering 
against her? What! Basil Marmaduke? 

322 


XXXI. 

FRIENDS. 


Mail in Mrs. Lester’s office lay stacked. Checks fell 
into her hands to be deposited daily, as was her custom on 
receipt, making her banks follow a system corresponding 
with her set of books. The remainder of the mail was over- 
looked. Who had written her from Montreal? she won- 
dered. 

Montreal, 19 — . 

Dear Mrs. Lester: I see in an insurance journal that you are 
occupying an enviable position among women as a successful fire 
insurance agent located in the “Hub” of the West. For years we have 
heard no word from you, but your name in the journal attracted 
us; and, more, we are locating important industries in the West 
and wish you to tell us of the marvelous city which is making such 
a stir commercially. 

We are locating a cotton manufactory. A syndicate with several 
million dollars, owning extensive cotton plantations, is arranging 
to locate a manufactory of consumption on the line of the demarca- 
tion of the Mississippi River, that the East may not longer have its 
overglut of manufacture from the markets of the South and West. 
We are joining forces in your territory. If the location is as desir- 
able as we understand, decide for us. Your opinion is subject to all 
respect. You know who we are. We are able to back the enter- 
prise and make things hum as we did at Middlesboro. Send all in- 
formation in your hands, and hurry. We are on the trail of a loca- 
tion. Mr. Smith also is connected with it. 

Sincerely, Herbert Stein. 

How eagerly Dixie read her letter, one can imagine. 
Alone out here in the West, known only in a business way, 
this intelligent Southern woman was hungry for recognition. 
She had borne the part of a woman, and now this rescue 

323 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


came timely. She replied hastily, bidding them come and 
overlook the opportunity. To her it was the Garden of 
Eden, the gardener asleep in paradise. She knew that 
when Mr. Stein and Mr. Smith began hurling the thunder- 
bolts against slow methods it would be heard around the 
world. It was a place so beautiful for situation, commer- 
cially arranged for tremendous ventures in supplying the 
unfilled West with a grade of goods. She knew that if 
Smith, long an East India white-goods manufacturer, had 
hold of the concern, it never could be excelled; he compre- 
hended technique. 

Dixie went over to the Commercial Club rooms, secured 
the latest advertisement, numerous photos, and bundled the 
matter off by the night mail with the letter. She overlooked 
for several days prospective locations and got options on 
available properties. Large coal tracts she investigated. 
Smith would own his own coal banks, she knew. There was 
a mighty commission in the investments for a woman if she 
managed it right. She set about scientifically. In the midst 
she received another telegram : 

Lord Summer is coming with the party. Intention to locate a 
massive steel plant of the English consolidated interests. Look up 
the properties on options. Stein. 

*Ts it possible that Lord Summer is here in America and 
coming to the city V* 

Dixie’s heart went back through the years. She had nev- 
er heard from him except through the Earl, who had written 
that he had entered business in London and centered all his 
forces in the iron business of the Consolidated. When the 
Earl was accidentally shot, a few years afterwards, she had 
entirely dropped the family, the Countess marrying some 
nobleman of Russia and selling most of her property. Car- 
neilyan, the Earl’s daughter, had married Lord Summer. 

324 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Dixie then foraged for supplies in earnest. This would 
be an outlay embracing millions. Ground for the steel plant 
would take acres, and coal properties must be procured. 
These were her demands especially. It was the drawing 
card of manufacture — cheap coal. To buy these and to 
look up buildings would consume her time. 

Next morning she prepared early for the city, intending 
to see every one of the holders of properties who wished to 
sell. She knew of a number of fine blocks — old, but well 
built. One tremendous affair belonged to the family of 
the Marmadukes. It had been vacant for a long period. 
She would ask Basil by phone the price. And the coal 
properties lying out by the Fair Grounds, she had heard, 
never a spade had been set to opening, there was such a 
drag on the market. She walked down Edgeway, as usual, 
to get action for the day and stimulative thought. The air 
was glorious this morning, she thought. On she tripped 
in the golden, early September weather. The friends she 
had known for years were coming. She hardly saw the 
cortege in front of her as she started to cross the street, 
but it halted her. She turned and started to cross to the 
other side on toward the city. There stood Basil Marma- 
duke. 

“What are you doing down so early V* she questioned him, 
crossing the street, he meeting her, holding out his hand 
eagerly. ‘T thought retired brokers drove their autos down 
at ten, read the papers, looked over their mail, ate lunch at 
half past one, played billiards until four, took a spin, and 
then had dinner. And here you are at nine. What can it 
mean?” she inquired. 

“O, hush ! What do you do all day?” he inquired. 

“Solicit blue-bloods, work in my den, and eat my porridge 
in a small restaurant. It is impossible to keep hot blood at 

325 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


a low ebb ; the thermometer would lose its quicksilver/' she 
said. 

“How's business now? That policy came all right by 
mail. Come in sometime; I will give you some expirations. 
I wish to apologize for my lack of courtesy. You reminded 
me of a friend I had years ago, and I was annoyed at the 
resemblance." Dixie's heart stood still a moment, then she 
recounted the success of her several weeks' work. He con- 
tinued: “We never had an agent who pitted us so hard 
with ambition and indefatigable industry. I am ashamed to 
loiter about my offices now ; that is the reason I am around 
so much. These old houses are on some valuable ground. 
I think I shall move the one on the corner to a residence lot 
out on Seventeenth and erect a fine building on the comer. 
What do you think of the project?" 

“It needs some daring spirits to heave thunderbolts. 
These Cyclopean strokes of finance are the propellers of 
commerce. A master's mind carves destinies. I wish to see 
you concerning a proposition slated in my office. If you 
will be in in about an hour, I will place the matter before 
you." 

“After dinner will suit me better. I have a lot of men to 
see in my office this morning, and at two o'clock all will be 
through," he answered. 

They looked at each other — he studying something deep 
in his mind; she, with calm face unveiled, looking at him 
steadily — then with a “Good-by" she crossed the street, he 
also saying “Good-by," but in the sweetest voice she had 
ever heard in all her life. What did it mean? 

Dixie tried for days and days to imitate the voice filled 
with such tenderness; to throw that tenderness, that ex- 
pression filled with intense love, into her voice. Did he ever 
tell her good-by that way, in that tender, low, inimitable 

326 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


way, giving expression to the heart’s longing? Perhaps the 
girl in Venice, when the moonlight fell on the lagoons with 
its silver as they drifted down the Adriatic, heard the word. 
As he stood in old Madrid, with all the glamour of the 
Moors crowded around him, there seemed little else for 
mortal to say. As he parted from her, did he then whisper 
that word in dulcet tones, in that way in which only he 
could say it? 

Yonder in Thebes, lying with her ruins half buried in the 
sands of the desert, there in the Temple of Karnak, when 
solemnity fell like a ghost of vanished empires, did he 
there in the silences of the desert, as the evening shadows 
crept and the last rays of the mellow sun fell slantingly 
on the sunken wall, say in the tones of love, *‘Good-by”? It 
is a man’s heart astray, deep, sweet, full to the depths of a 
strong nature. But the fagades of the Temple of the Ptol- 
emys have all been stolen, its sculptures overthrown, its 
chancel entered, and its treasures carried away. In every 
land is some imperial statue, some wondrous sculpture like 
Michelangelo’s "‘David,” and here in the land of his temple 
stand the ruins, telling of past glory and neglect of preser- 
vation. 

Sunday afternoon the young men went to hear some 
speaker in the city who was lecturing on a subject interest- 
ing to students, and Mrs. Lester was left alone. But it was 
always easy to dispose of her spare moments. This after- 
noon she was weary with the additional work she had been 
obliged to do and felt fully able to handle the undertaking 
which developed upon her. Everything had been found in 
properties demanded by the syndicate. The coal properties 
of Basil Marmaduke were on the market, he said, when she 
called the same afternoon. He stated that he desired to 
dispose of them. They had been investigated, but he had 

327 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


not worked them. The distance from the city and his long 
absence had delayed work on them, but they were very 
desirable. He allowed her to take an option on them, smil- 
ing, though, as they all did, because she was a woman and 
had no financial backing, and of course decided that she 
was abstracted by overwork. 

So the afternoon found her ensconced in front of the 
grate, before glaring coals of fire, resting, absently rest- 
ing, mind unoccupied — a way she always had of recuper- 
ating. About four o’clock some one stopped an auto in 
front of her house, came up the steps, several more follow- 
ing, and a peal sounded at the door. She opened it, and 
three gentlemen spoke to her at once — Stein, Lord Summer, 
and Smith. 

‘'Come in, friends. It is a good day to me to see your 
faces again.” To Stein she directed her conversation: 
“You gave me no warning, and how did you find me?” she 
said. 

“City directory. We had a late dinner and then came 
out to see you. We came through in our autos. The road 
was magnificent. This State has the finest boulevards — 
equal to Southern California. We were surprised that here 
in the West progress has so far competed with the East. 
They know how to draw trade — with good roads. It is a 
beautiful country we passed through. I never in all my 
life have seen so many flourishing farms. The country is 
enormously wealthy,” Mr. Stein said. 

“And where are the young men? That is about all Mr. 
Stein has talked about — Lester’s boys. He says he will re- 
lieve you of them ; that he wants to see them come out, as 
their father did, and make a place where men can lift up 
advantageously,” said Mr. Smith. 

“Here they are; let them answer for themselves,” said 
328 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


Dixie as she heard them step up on the porch and turn the 
door knob. 

In walked two young men about the same height, with 
dark eyes, fine-featured faces, noble appearance — desirable 
boys, the elder eighteen, the younger his junior several 
years. She introduced them. 

The gentleman arose and clasped the boys* hands, Mr. 
Stein saying : “I hoped to find you an image of your father, 
but your mother certainly has the advantage of claiming 
her boys in appearance. How about the brain?’* 

Dane replied: “We are but boys yet; we must work out 
our destiny. If we have any special gifts, we have been 
preparing and perhaps will make our places, as our father 
did.** 

“Lord Summer, what of America, that your attention was 
directed to our land? Have we such opportunities that 
your eagle eye is scrutinizing our resources?” inquired 
Dixie. 

“Who says 'Nay* to opportunity when it knocks at one’s 
door repeatedly? This vast, unoccupied territory chal- 
lenged our attention as a field of enterprise. The lack of 
interurban systems in the incipiency of solving gave our 
sinews of war notice of a commercial triumph. We are on 
the ground to bid for the rails, which will lay the founda- 
tion of commercial importance which the West has begun 
in earnest. Here is the central State of action. Coal, your 
booklets tell us, is in vast beds almost untouched. It is the 
open field, and we will fill the demand with the smelters of 
the Consolidated.” 

So determinedly did Lord Summer utter the words that 
Dixie smiled in spite of herself at the awakening in the Eng- 
lish lord from his former lackadaisical manner. “Com- 
merce’s existence is here, a part of tremendous machinery 

329 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


which whirls the power of commerce in straight lines. The 
woman you knew is swallowed in attempting to effect her 
nation’s triumph. Fate has willed that you put your shoul- 
der now to the flying wheel,” she said in reply. 

“Your spirit has diverged its line. Commerce has 
snatched it for your nation’s aggrandizement. It will have 
no rest until her enormous powers are proved. Her re- 
sources are untouched, her noble men asleep in the heart of 
her paradise. I accept your welcome to an inheritance 
awaiting the sinews of war,” he spoke, deeply moved. 

“These boys will make men kneel to their swords pretty 
soon,” Mr. Smith said from across the room. “The demand 
of the world now is to awake out of the maelstrom of dis- 
sipation and regain lost manhood. We would not need such 
men to cross our commercial seas if they had not been lost 
in surfeiting,” derisively. 

Mr. Stein asked Dixie if she and the boys would accom- 
pany them for a jaunt through the city. They had several 
hours left before sunset. She assented, and they sent the 
chauffeur back to the city for the second steamer, left in 
the garage downtown. Dixie served a refreshing cup of 
tea and wafers while awaiting the return of the cars, chat- 
ting in her gladness at having friends again. 

Mr. Stein, Mr. Smith, and one of the young men, with 
the chauffeur, occupied one car ; while Lord Summer, Mrs. 
Lester, Carroll, with the other chauffeur, filled the other 
one. They directed the cars to the north, out Sixth past the 
delightful homes, around Fourth Street, climbed the incline 
on past the detour to the massive bridge which looked, 
they said, like the bridges spanning the Tiber’s yellow flow 
at Rome. Then the cars tried their strength, as the Ma- 
son car did the capitol steps, and ascended Magnate Hill. 
The extensive grounds of the university, with its many 
330 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


blocks of stone buildings situated in view of the panorama, 
broke before them in magnificence. They drove on to the 
site which overlooked the plain stretching before them and 
stopped the cars to obtain a range of the view, looking into 
the distance. 

‘T am glad that America can now exchange scenery with 
your great country of Scotland, Lord Summer/^ said Dixie. 

“Dear madam, it is incomparable. The difference is, we 
have a State compared to your enormous country. We 
are not in line for comparison at all ; but, not decrying our 
own Scotland, it is very dear to me.” 

“The view is surpassingly beautiful,” said Mr. Stein. 
“See the range of hills! The ribboned strand purling 
through the distant land makes picturesque the landscape. 
See the train whirling yonder along the base of the hills! 
What domesticity is that filling the south, clumped amid the 
native trees, and the castle tower rising on the loftiest por- 
tion, Mrs. Lester?” 

“That is one of the landmarks of the State. The mighty 
advantages of the opportunity in the early years made the 
city a millionaire among his compeers ; but there are many 
wealthy men in the State and several more here,” she re- 
plied to the query. 

“But the massive manufactories looming in the distance 
are the most interesting sight,” said Mr. Smith. “That 
bulging smoke issuing from smokestacks portends activity. 
What is that rising far to the east there, your State capitol, 
surrounded with white, broad streets and statues? The 
ascending steps are a culmination of the portentous. How 
green and beautiful is the lawn, with its clumps of shrubs 
and white statuary ! That is a fair picture. And far away 
there on to the east” — ^he lifted his arm and motioned away 
— “is that your State Fair Grounds, with all those enor- 

331 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


mous buildings? What have you done to augment already 
the power lying behind your city construction! All things 
have been provided, like a provident mother. Now is the 
hour of your reaping.” 

“Such a view one sees in a lifetime,” said Lord Summer. 
“It is as you and your cousin Athenia said of our British 
Museum: ‘I am crammed to the limit; let us fill our souls 
with the vast view.' I see the valley teeming in a quarter 
of a century with five million people. Vast enterprises will 
fill the barren space to the east toward your Fair Grounds. 
Exuberant life will renew the song of the anvil on the 
Western land, as it does back in old England. But” — he 
turned, looking back of him at the untouched forests — 
“here will I locate my residence, away from the smoke and 
soot of manufacture. Such a place as I will build will 
show my ultimate faith in the Western "Hub.' What does 
a man pay for a section of land on the highlands ?” 

""It runs about twenty thousand dollars a section. To 
you, who are so able to determine natural conditions of 
future prospects of a dominant city's empire, it is priceless,” 
answered Dixie. 

""Shall we empower our friend here to arrange such a 
deal. Smith? What do you say, Stein, and build several 
places here of palace proportions?” 

"‘It will be like living on the highlands of the Hudson?” 
Lord Summer inquired of his two friends. 

“Home is the incentive of a man's life. From it radiates 
existence; about it clusters the holy of holies. My heart 
and hand are with you,” answered Mr. Stein, and Mr. Smith 
nodded approval. 

“We have an area of vantage here for constructing an 
enviable home. Off to the rear will be hunting preserves, 
lakes stocked as fisheries, ranges for stock, orchards, and 

332 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


gardens. Here in the midst of the superb beeches will be our 
white-stone palaces. Import, too, Mrs. Lester, that Floren- 
tine landscape artist to make artistic the picture. It will 
make the lift of the ‘Hub’ perched up here as a background 
of the city.” 

“Yes, our time is too limited for debate. We have found 
it; take it, make it. Close the deal for us, Mrs. Lester. 
You brought our attention to it. When property sails over 
your head, pick at the meat in sight,” Lord Summer said 
tritely. 

A general laugh broke out among them at the desire of 
Lord Summer for his new-found friend to pick up all the 
crumbs falling. They reentered the cars, turned around, 
and retraced their tracks toward the city. The sun was still 
in the west an hour high. Dixie directed the car to the west. 
They turned into Central Drive as they reached the princi- 
pal street, whirling away amidst a portion of territory 
thickly builded; residences of large expanse and domain 
lay to the right and to the left. Past the colossal university 
grounds, the extensive space filled with white-stone struc- 
tures, perhaps a dozen — conservatory, library, laboratories, 
law building, main structures — immense buildings. Here, 
too, the management had employed flora, designs of ex- 
traordinary beauty, and great forest trees filled the grounds 
with shade. Then the Stadium hove in sight with its Ro- 
man Pit, tiered round and round with seats, embracing 
many acres of ground. But the domesticity continued on 
the length of the boulevard. 

The men exclaimed: “What a domesticity you have! 
What a natural level of reserve! It seems providential 
surveying.” 

Lord Summer turned in his seat, addressing his friends 
in the rear: “It is unapproachable. Progress turns her 

333 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


tide when men push it to its strength. But now we have 
discovered Golconda. We will test the West’s power of at- 
tainment.” 

The Whitmore Links were approached, and the cars 
slowed up. They left the cars standing to inspect the new 
clubhouse and scanned the links overreaching the extensive 
dimension. 

“This town needs salvation, commercial salvation. There 
are not such links this side of the Mississippi River. When 
men throw themselves into its furnace fires and make a 
metropolis out of prospects, here is a marvelous arena for 
recuperation,” delightedly said Mr. Stein. 

“It needs Mr. Smith. He is a furnace fire. Heave in, 
old fellow; keep heaving in. No rest, no surcease; everlast- 
ingly at it,” said the intrepid Lord Summer. 

“And Lord Summer and Mr. Stein and Mrs. Lester to 
whoop us all up ad infinitum/' sallied Mr. Smith. 

Covering the short distance intervening between the links, 
they reached the links to the south. 

“The grounds which the masters of commerce made a 
retreat for exhausted nerve. Here the Western Goulds, 
Rockefellers, and Harrimans were pitted against each other 
for ascendancy,” said Dixie. 

“These fellows must have inherited, attained, wiggled 
through the combines, or maneuvered for seats in the Cham- 
ber of Commerce, to have laid links of such proportions. 
The aesthetic clubhouse is doing what I suspected when we 
landed amid the colossal hotels downtown, hewing its own 
sinews of war. Our arms will but test the achievement and 
emulate their forethought,” said Lord Summer. 

Richelieu Boulevard was reached amid a roadway, down 
a deep descent, wild, forest-grown. The men exclaimed at 
the advantage of such an artistic spot. 

334 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“Such a refractory spot affords a change for exquisite 
landscape triumph. Some Indian legend there worked out 
would be the proper conceit, including wigwam and pa- 
pooses in sculptured stone. Where is that Basil Marma- 
duke you told us about who so resembled Lord Summer? 
Why doesn’t he get busy ?” asked Mr. Smith. 

“It will come; everything will come when the wings are 
fastened on. It will be ludicrous to see how men will long 
to extend years to note the completion of the embryo,” an- 
swered Mrs. Lester. 

But they were reaching the boulevard of the millionaires, 
speeding down Richelieu. On every hand were remarks on 
the elegance of the domains. 

“What harmony of architecture you have here! It is 
entirely too English to speed past rapidly ; it is superb I Who 
designed the immense pile? It is to the Queen’s taste, far- 
fetching indeed,” said Lord Summer. 

“It is the Fontainebleau residence. The owners also built 
the large hotel where I engaged your suite. It is an impos- 
ing place ; but all along the boulevards are similar edifices,” 
she replied. 

“And this is the castle on the hill. He needs only a flag 
to fly from its turret to become a German baronet. But that 
place with the big white pillars is your preference, lying 
down in its reserved parking.” 

“If all the plant were as vivifying as it is out here, they 
would not need our light of radium,” Mr. Smith con- 
cluded. 


335 


XXXII. 

THE SYNDICATE. 

It was an early hour when Dixie reached her office. She 
came by the florist's and brought up some crimson ramblers 
and a bunch of fresh magazines. She was to be hostess to 
a syndicate, to entertain a twenty-five-million-dollar corpo- 
ration. It behooved her to ascend the grade of business and 
enter the sphere of women controlling large interests. 

Hardly had Dixie hung her wraps in her private office 
when Dane ushered in the three friends. He had gone by 
the hotel to conduct them to his mother's place of busi- 
ness. They immediately entered the autos for sight- 
seeing, obviously to obtain a view of the selected properties, 
to see the availability of the structures. At noon they re- 
paired to the Fontainebleau for the noon repast, returning 
to the autos for the Fair Grounds, where the coal banks 
were and the site lay for the steel plant. This was over- 
looked, scrutinized by a mineralogist employed to investi- 
gate the mines. 

*'They are reputed to be the richest undeveloped mines in 
the State," the scientist reported. “But you can see from 
the jutting here, backing up my statement. It will work 
out in surprising value." 

“What is the time of consumption of such properties?" 
Lord Summer asked. 

“It would supply the Rock Island cars for hundreds 
of years in shipping; to run a smelter the consumption 
would be less. It is unbounded in resources ; runs back into 
the hills for miles — a rich property," answered the mineralo- 
gist. Turning to Dixie, he spoke: “And run lines right 
through the properties. Did some one show you these dor- 
336 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


mant properties, or did Marmaduke give you inside lines? 
If so, he has given away royalty; and it is astounding that 
such conditions exist where daily newspapers are contribu- 
ting world news.” 

“Old bachelors care little for royal possessions. Look!” 
— directing his attention with her hand — “that old sign- 
board has had a historic page in this book of ancient days. 
When I looked up the owner, he was glad to dispose of 
them, saying that taxes ate him out of house and home; 
he could hardly find sufficient to make his travels on each 
year,” she answered. 

“There are many bachelors awake. The infringement on 
such ways is paradoxical. They intend to claim full rights ; 
but, you see, time steals their intentions. What he doesn’t 
want will make the city a fortune.” He looked at her ad- 
miringly. 

“Yes, and add to the city thousands of people when the 
furnace of your steel plant is lighted. Your residence erect- 
ed back on Magnate Heights, and the hosts of workmen 
operating the cotton manufactories — it will begin bringing 
in the millions as a beginning. Your prophecy you will ful- 
fill,” Dixie said to him, overflowing with the prospect. 

The mineralogist coming back from the mines, they re- 
entered the cars and drove back to the city. That after- 
noon they closed the deal. Marmaduke was dispatched for 
and the abstract gone over. The lawyers decided it incon- 
testable. Within a few days the deed of transfer was 
made and duly recorded. Lord Summer was greatly pleased 
with Basil Marmaduke, considering him a finished gentle- 
man, an interesting business man, who needed only volition 
to be a progenitor of the Western subject. Basil took the 
party of men out to the Country Club for a game and for 
the bowling which, he said, was a component part of their 
337 


22 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


diversions, as the guests were unexcelled in this line. They 
recorded a splendid afternoon. 

‘‘It is our hour now,” Mr. Stein said to Dixie the next 
morning. “We will make our investigations of those blocks 
and see if your selections are not exactly our need. Will 
you accompany us in the auto ?” 

“At your immediate service,” replied Dixie. 

They went down the elevator, entered the car, and turned 
toward the tracks. There lay two blocks close together, 
adjoining the tracks, each of ponderous appearance, suit- 
ing Smith’s demand for durability. The combined struc- 
tures were to be thrown together for present demands and 
overhauled, if accepted. The contractor overlooked the 
properties fully and announced that they were practical for 
factory purposes. The Market Street building was in close 
proximity to the post office, formerly used for one of 
the bank buildings ; but the move to Broadway was deemed 
feasible, leaving this splendid four-story corner structure 
empty several years. The keys had been sent to Dixie’s of- 
fice by the President of the bank on application by Dane. 
Dixie now passed them over to Mr. Smith, who opened the 
door to the commodious block. They went thoroughly over 
all the floors, inspecting from the basement to the thickness 
of the upper floors. Finding that they were not sounding 
boards of extreme age, they decided that it was up to their 
immediate demands and turned the three buildings over to 
the contractor to overhaul upon receiving deeds of convey- 
ance. 

“It shall all be in dead white within a week ; black letters 
four feet long will proclaim, ‘Cotton Is King.’ Will that 
suit your ideas of business, Mrs. Lester? It will be going 
some,” said Mr. Stein in high spirits. 

338 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“And you are willing to pay the price of the property?” 
Dixie asked. 

“Yes, and more. If we had not found you here, it would 
have been that; but your getting options before the secret 
got out saved us an enormous salvage on the purchase price. 
Did you see the morning papers? The city is wild, stark 
crazy. When we get the deals closed we must get ac- 
quainted with these people, shake their hands, and let them 
know that we are good fellows, come to take a meal with 
them and smoke our cigars together,” said urbane Smith. 

“The wheels of commerce would not clog if the world 
of business was filled with such as our party of hustlers. It 
is good that the building is close to the center of things, so 
travelers can see the march of the Western ‘Hub,’ ” Dixie 
replied. 

“There is talk of giving you a brass button after we close 
these deals,” Mr. Stein said. “We are going to take a spell 
off and cheer up our old friend a bit.” 

“A true workman waits. I came shod with the prep- 
aration of peace, and every one has begun to bow now; 
my head needs an automatic invention. Yesterday at the 
hotel the eyes looked at me like the advertisement of the 
Rock Island Limited. Is this popularity? Is it the port- 
cullis of aristocratic fellowship with my fellow being? Lord 
Summer said that even England acknowledges her winning 
enemies. In this neck of woods every man is challenged 
like moonshiners back in the mountains of Kentucky,” Dixie 
replied. 

They met Lord Summer at dinner at the Fontainebleau. 
The tables were strewn with newspapers. All the party 
were photographed. Every attitude since arriving in the 
city was taken notice of, every foot of ground told of in 
startling red headlines. One paper called it the “red-letter 

339 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


day’* and used type lavishly. They had been stumbling 
over the West looking for a location, and one of the fire 
insurance solicitors was known; her name drew attention 
to the open field; millions of dollars were to be invested; 
the properties bought were told about. It bore a record 
such as any live paper would issue, filling the entire front 
page. After their dinner was concluded, a levee was held 
in the parlors of the hotel. 

“Advertisement was the golden port of our entrance. 
We were drifting down the tide of need, saw the beckoning 
hand of our friend of olden days, and we moored at the 
docks of opportunity,” answered Lord Summer as he stood 
with commanding form and looked the crowd over easily, 
replying to the myriad questionings. 

Dixie returned to her office and arranged by telephone 
for tickets to the theater for the evening. They had ex- 
hausted their energy, and she called a halt. Afterwards she 
repaired to the corner, awaiting her car. 

Basil Marmaduke crossed the street, saw Dixie, and 
looked as if his eyes were electric lights — sent repeatedly 
four or five electric volts toward her. She felt the shock, 
a reverberation like the power of some mesmeric flow, going 
through her being. She looked back calmly, inquiringly. 
Her car hove in sight, and she entered, speeding away to 
her home. “What could it mean?” she questioned. From 
the moment of her meeting him as a fire insurance agent 
he had been rude. Was he hiding his true feeling behind 
his rough manners? Yet he had been so courteous ever 
since she got the policy away from the boys ! Perhaps re- 
spect had developed. Development meant proper consid- 
eration. Was it the Western type, uncultivated? Was it 
the Spanish type, decadent ? 

The theater party which filled the box that night was the 

340 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


cynosure of all glasses. Lord Summer was regal in evening 
dress, Mr. Stein looked as he did in his dancing days at 
Middlesboro, and Mr. Smith heavy and conventional. Dane 
accompanied his mother, occupying a seat by her. Dixie 
wore a white evening dress, her hair done in reigning mode, 
with a diamond star in it. Some role Drew essayed was on 
the stage — a conniving mother of a Western silver mine 
marrying off her child to a scion of the castle. The evening 
wore on delightfully. In the interim many came to the box 
to meet the guests of Mrs. Lester. She ordered refreshing 
ices, and several remained, occupying vacant chairs during 
the remainder of the performance. 

341 


XXXIII. 

THE BANQUET. 

Invitations had been issued several days for a banquet 
at the Fontainebleau to meet the syndicate. It embraced, 
naturally, the foremost men and women of the city, Dixie 
wishing to leave nothing undone which she could contribute 
to the acknowledgment of their presence in the midst of 
the forces of construction. 

The spacious hotel was burnished with an array of glit- 
tering lights. The band, seated behind a bank of palms, 
discoursed military music, interspersed with “The Star- 
Spangled Banner,’’ “Hail, Columbia,” and the airs of for- 
mer days, when men were thrilled with the power of being. 

Mr. Stein, Dane, and the Secretary of the Commercial 
Club stood together; Mr. Smith, Lord Summer, and Mrs. 
Lester in a group. The guests came quickly, filing past with 
the most courteous handshaking and words of greeting. 
Dixie did her part of the introducing, her business line of- 
fering this acquaintance. 

“Mr. Smith, Lord Summer, we have our representatives 
among us. Allow me to make you acquainted with our 
Messrs. Seigleg, Strauss, and Yukon” They shook hands 
cordially. 

“We wish to greet you, Mr. Smith, for the reputation 
you bring us as a manufacturer ; it will double our resources 
of trade,” said Mr. Seigleg. “It is a double cost to import. 
The cotton fields of the South are our next-door neighbors. 
Business turns its own tide backward to send East for 
goods made of the raw material of the South. It is an 
open field you are entering. We give you the right hand of 
fellowship.” 


342 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


“You men make commerce. Your tremendous enterprises 
savor of the ascendant conditions of firms in London. 
Those three stores on Broadway are magnificent representa- 
tives, the best in the West. It should stir all classes of 
manufacture to supply your demands — lace, embroidery, 
swisses, prints, and every line of consumption,*' said Smith, 
signifying his understanding of the situation. 

Several millionaire lumbermen came up and met them, 
clasping hands as banded by the ownership of amassing 
ability. 

“The triumph to us is to find the open field of operation. 
It is spectacular, as a far-sighted prospector knows. That 
the matter was not settled in the seventies is marvelous,*’ 
Mr. Smith seemingly inquired of his acquaintances. 

“America awaited her Columbus. We were glad to be 
discovered, and came like good Indians to smoke the pipe 
of peace with you,” said Berriman. 

“The amazement is excessively genial,” Mr. Smith punned 
in reply. “We now will fill the demand of the hour. The 
greatest factor of the South has awaited you for a cen- 
tury.” 

The hot blaze roared up the chimney of commerce as the 
ruddy blaze ignited, one by one, the moving spirits. The 
band’s inspiration contributed brilliant selections. National 
strains waked the flush on their faces and fire in their eyes, 
speaking hope to all. 

Mr. Stein was the central figure of the other group of 
ladies and gentlemen. His wit blazed like a Scarron; his 
keen mind stormed the heights of men’s altitudes meteoric, 
scintillating, lighting a canvas of master knowledge like a 
commander of armies, some Napoleon of finance, some La 
Follette on the rostrum of world progress. He satisfied 
the demand for vitality. The West needed some one to 

343 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


produce tangible existence. He was the man, the force, the 
arbiter. The world felt him and began to move, arouse. 

Dixie saw that the setting was superb as she scanned the 
faces and said to Lord Summer : “Ah ! search, find, burnish 
the Western men, and show them to the world in their 
dare and do. The hour is ripe for ascendant power,” she 
said, looking up earnestly into his face. 

“I never saw such men before in my life. Every one is 
ready for commercial battle. Mr. Stein’s personality is 
urging it to fever heat. All together can build a world,” 
replied Lord Summer. 

The dining-room doors were slipped back, revealing a 
magnificent repast, glittering with cut glass and silver, dec- 
orated with pink roses along its board in profuse color and 
grace ; delectable host to render unto the gods incense ; the 
viands engraved his name unchangeable ; he became master, 
caterer, immortal, slated on the memories of men. Wit, 
humor, repartee, and flow of wise men’s words ran like 
Rhine wine, overflowing. They sat at the board of the 
skillful, wondering. Two hours passed; and after-dinner 
speeches came, called for by the President of the Commer- 
cial Club. 

“It is the day of large enterprises,” he said, rising in his 
place. “The molding of a commercial empire is ours. We 
are on the buoyant tide ; it rings with a clear call. Victory ! 
The call has leaped the seas” — ^bowing toward Lord Sum- 
mer — “and circled the globe, has startled listening ears in 
far-distant lands. The banners of our progress are spread 
to the world. Voices return through the trumpet of vic- 
tory, asking: ‘What have you in your vineyards of the 
setting sun?’ ” 

Cheers rang, resounding as these words fell from the 
young scion’s lips, lifting up and exalting the power of 
344 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


management. The uproar continued until he bethought 
himself, and the gavel fell with a thunderous sound. 

“Smith! Smith!’’ was called repeatedly, and men raised 
their hands as he arose. 

“I bring you the enthusiasm of the Southern cotton plant- 
er to the open field of the manufacturer. We stood at your 
door and knocked, with our white pods bursting with cot- 
ton. The opportunity is ours to make goods for your do- 
mestic use and sacks for your astounding corn, for unnum- 
bered bushels of potatoes, and for the wheat of your prai- 
ries. You have seen us bow-backed in yonder cotton fields, 
in the blistering sun, as you whirled past us with scores 
of salesmen to sell manufactured goods. You were not de- 
pending upon your own manufactures. We awaited your 
call to keep your money at home in the exchange of trade 
and double your prosperity. You sent buyers to distant 
lands to procure the finest and rarest of the looms. To the 
Old-World storehouses you went, where the swisses were 
of finest weave, where laces of Mechlin sold for a name. 
The pineapple tissues enmeshed you. Your money gone, 
your own territory filled with these factors of aggregated 
industries. What of the New World building upon your 
land of the West, making wheels turn by your own tide of 
progress.^ [Prolonged applause.] Do you wear more 
gloves than shirts? [Applause.] Your manufacturer buys 
skins and manufactures a glove as durable, as elegant, as 
the tanneries supply material. Your woolen mills manufac- 
ture from the soft dress of the sheep and supply the de- 
mands of many States, challenging by merit against a raven- 
ous East. Your flour factories supply white, nutty flour 
and ship it throughout the borders of the States. Your 
lumbermen compete successfully with bids for finished grade 
of special lines of superior planing mills. The cities on 

345 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


either hand bade us enter, but the field was crippled with 
a preponderance of similar enterprises. We looked at the 
hotbed of your agricultural State and saw that it was await- 
ing the extended hand of fellowship. We clasped hands 
across two States. Bid us welcome ; we have come to help.” 

Men stamped and laughed out loud in their delight. 
‘'Lord Summer! Lord Summer!” they then cried loudly. 
He arose with gracious bearing, bowing right and left with 
the courtesy of his realm. 

“We are here to enter the product of the steel plant on 
the arena of the commercial West. Iron is the instrument 
which unlocks the doors of the world. The motive power of 
commerce, it unlocks doors bursting with the need of man. 
The ships of the seas are our invention; the furnaces of 
the iron horse crossing the continental lines of your nation, 
speeding on past your gates, are of our forging; your heating 
plants, radiators, stoves, plows, reapers, and diversified in- 
ventions for the field. Every industry demands us. We 
are commerce’s right hand, leaping rivers on iron structures 
of our building. We saw here the doors off their hinges; 
we saw untracked territory awaiting the iron rails of the 
interurban system which will intersect your immense terri- 
tory until it will conjoin every village and intersect every 
crossroad. We are locating to supply your need; the Con- 
solidated can fill the State.” 

Cheers rang intermittently during the short speech of 
Summer, his voice cutting through the air like some electric 
bell sounding an echo in the vibrant air. As men listened 
with abated breath, they asked in one voice : “What do you 
want ?” 

“Home consumption for home production,” quickly re- 
plied the Englishman. 

Mighty cheers answered from the throats of myriad men, 

346 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


reverberating blocks, until reporters doubled their forces. 
It was impossible to subdue the commotion. At last a terri- 
ble rapping restored order, and quiet settled upon the excit- 
ed crowd. “Stein ! Stein \” the cry soon called. Men craned 
their necks as he arose amid the crowds, with commanding 
form, an elegance of appearance seldom seen. His ease of 
posture graced the assembly. Dixie^s heart welled with 
pride. His personality added to the invigo ration of the 
work accomplished by the preceding speakers. The great- 
er portion thought they were the length and the breadth 
of the personnel; but when he arose to speak they leveled 
their gaze on a masterful man. 

“Greeting to the West \” Mr. Stein bowed right and left 
with a winning matchlessness, which left little else to do. 
“We bring you sinews of war. We learned city-building in 
harness. Spontaneity caught us; our torch lighted other 
torches until the trail glowed with a thousand glittering 
beacons. Enthusiasm builds a city; men throw themselves 
into it like coal in the furnace fires of the greyhounds 
crossing the Atlantic. It wields forces of commerce, con- 
joined with railroads ; the hotbed is the inner fire of a me- 
tropolis. Where we had a city in the Cumberland Moun- 
tains, you have here already a hub of power lying in the 
heart of aristocracy of agricultural surroundings, making 
you the cynosure of the nation, the envy of a world. [Ap- 
plause.] What is it to you? Across your borders they have 
five factories to your one — with the same area, yet far less 
cultivative resources. They gave thousands of dollars for 
manufactories ; it now takes millions. Every city we entered 
made offers for our lines. Omaha and Kansas City yonder 
were so overrun with the enthusiasm of busy men that they 
would not let us go. The beautiful held us with the thongs 
of a thousand attractions — the beautiful white streets, the 

347 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


exquisite parks, the drives. Great business houses and man- 
ufactories, the power of a city, called to our stirring 
blood. The everlasting ‘get-at-it’ was seething with fur- 
nace coals. But we were drawn to you by unfilled ter- 
ritory. Your coal beds adjoin our cotton and iron, making 
it cheaper to bring our product to your fires. We locate for 
industry’s consumption; we become one with you, identify 
ourselves in your upbuilding, unify in a bond of fellowship. 
[Applause.] Keep out the intruder; throw the tax of im- 
port overboard, into the sea of lost-expense account.” [Pro- 
longed applause.] 

Mr. Stein sat down spent with enthusiasm. Men cheered 
themselves hoarse. The rap came at last for order, and 
the surprise of the evening was rung on. ^'Mrs. Lester! 
Speech ! Speech !” the ladies and men cried. She arose, 
made a courteous bow, and sat down. “Speech ! Speech !” 
She then spoke. 

“When my friends found that I was in the Garden of 
Eden, they wanted some of the fruits. I bade them come 
and taste of its delectable juiciness ; it was impossible to ex- 
port, so they wanted to live where the fruit bore so luscious- 
ly. Woman was ordained to encourage. We point to lands 
where mighty men of old made earth a fair dwelling place. 
When conditions of the cycle of ages opened the door of 
the Western world, rude ships sailed across the stormy 
path and made a new home of a continent bordering on the 
Atlantic and the Pacific, with yonder seas on the north, and 
the Gulf the commercial vantage of the South. They came 
here with rude toil and ruder implements; but out of the 
vastness of unbounded forests, near the ‘Father of Waters,’ 
they laid the beams of this Chamber of Commerce. [Ap- 
plause.] Soon the systems of transcontinental railway lines 

348 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


conjoined their destinies with the seaboards, and the pulsing 
heart of the West throbbed with life-giving power. 

“Need we live in our gardens alone, with the mighty echo 
of our greatness reverberating around the earth? No; the 
interchange of commerce swung the power of a metropolis 
into fine action ; the destiny of an empire emerged from her 
heart. These, my friends, forged the thunderbolts of Cy- 
clopean giants in building with the empire builders. Into 
this storehouse of opportunity they unload the triumph 
which made other cities renowned, bursting into convulsion 
the tides which bounded on to prosperity. 

“All the cities of ancient days had the same force of ac- 
tion. Who said ‘Nay’ to Pericles? He commanded the city 
of Athens to arise on the plains of Greece. Who built the 
Parthenon, the most perfectly sculptured temple in the 
world? Who built the Temple of the Wingless Victory? 
Who erected, in yonder Athens, the Propylaea, where stood 
the statue of Athenia, the patron and defender of the city? 
[Applause.] Here was the most embellished city of the 
globe; here the immortal sculptures of Phidias; here the 
ornamentation which has been the study, the copy of the 
world; here gathered the savants, creating the atmosphere 
of culture. To-day her colossal ruins are the museum of the 
world. 

“We jump the lapse of ages and enter the gates of Flor- 
ence. Lorenzo de Medici completed the splendor of the 
achievement ; his hand was the wand of enchantment. This 
art-loving ruler was a banker. The commercial interests 
centered about his achievement, giving it a precedent en- 
viable even to the embellished Italian world. Michelangelo 
came at the bidding of De Medici, contributing his sculp- 
tures, carving statues, ornamenting boulevards, laying out 

349 


THE GIRL WHO LOVED THE LAND 


art squares, and throwing up fountains of mythological 
character.’" 

Dixie threw her eyes directly on Basil Marmaduke, who 
was devouring her with mouth wide open and eyes like 
stars. He arose from his chair and gasped : “Dixie Roches- 
ter ! Dixie Rochester !” 

“Down! Down in front!” the men called. Basil slowly 
fell back into his seat. Dixie continued her speech. 

“Pitti Palace is filled with paintings of the world’s mas- 
ters ; on its walls hang the works of Murillo, Rubens, Titian, 
Raphael, and Da Vinci. The centuries have given methods. 
The pride of a city builds its own palaces of industry. If 
one man built Florence, a hundred can build on this West- 
ern plain, watered by its fair Amo, a similar design, which 
neither past nor future can surpass. The modem day of 
easy methods is yours. All art, all science, all machinery, 
all inventions, all power are in your hands, and you will 
build your city.” 

Dixie looked straight into the eyes of Basil Marmaduke 
again. He rose to his feet, with pale face, but unhesitatingly 
said : “We will build the city. No labor will be spared ; no 
rest will we take ; no outlay will be too costly to make it as 
beautiful and as great as the city of Lorenzo de Medici.” 

350 


FINIS. 






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